


Dream SMP oneshots

by Lolunic0rn



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ADHD, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaotic upload schedule, Dream Smp, Emotions, Everyone Has Issues, Evil Mister JSchlatt, Except the angst, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Ghlatt, Ghost-Schlatt, Ghostbur, Good Dadza is good, Hurt/Comfort, Is this what tagging is like, Light Angst, Lots of domestic abuse really, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, No beta we die like the hunters in Manhunt, No major character deaths ever, No successful suicides though, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, People keep asking me to write abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Schlatt drinks a lot, Self-Esteem Issues, Some Swearing, Suicidal Thoughts, Technoblade has depression, They all need a hug, Tommy needs a hug, Trauma, Triggers, domestic abuse, its all hurt/comfort, kinda scary but ok guys like I’ll do it, memory repression, oneshots, sbi family, taking requests, tommy has adhd, why are they all depressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 43,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolunic0rn/pseuds/Lolunic0rn
Summary: Oneshots for Dream SMP characters. Leave whatever you want as a request (Ships, friendship, family, fluff, angst, child appropriate or otherwise, less than savory, whatever) and I’ll use my own discretion when choosing.
Comments: 77
Kudos: 436





	1. Intro/Requests

Hey, guys!

Thanks for showing up! This is my first work, seeing as I just got my account, so don’t be too harsh on me I guess. I promise I’m decent at writing though ;) 

Go ahead and leave your requests in comments on this chapter. I’m most comfortable with characters I’ve already tagged, but don’t hesitate to request someone else, just know that I might not do it if I’m not as familiar, or it might just take longer. Like I said in the description, request whatever you want (Ships, friendship, family, fluff, angst, child appropriate or otherwise, less than savory, sequel, Tubbo being horribly manipulated, whatever) and I’ll either do it or I won’t, but I probably will. I’ll probably do some chapters of requests and some of whatever I want, since sometimes I just want to imagine a certain type of storyline and either nobody has written it yet or I’ve already read all of it, so I’ll just do it myself. I plan on updating pretty frequently but also a bit sporadically.

That’s the long way to say: Leave your requests here. I’ll update as much as I can. Request whatever you want.

Also, Disclaimer: obviously, these are written about the CHARACTERS, not the people.

Update, 12/17/2020: y’all please I have no inspiration I would love some requests literally don’t worry about it if it’s bad I can just alter it slightly or if I’m uncomfy I can literally ignore it but I can’t come up with very many more ideas on my ooowwwnnnnnnn

Update, 12/28/2020: You guys are the best! Seriously, everyone is being really nice to me in the comments, and it’s all very sweet. Also, if you’re new here- all/most of the chapters with Tubbo in the title are following the same story, where Tubbo had been kidnapped by Schlatt and forced into servitude and now his family has saved him and he’s working through it. The first one takes place quite a bit after the rest because... I didn’t intend it to be continued. People just kept wanting more. I really like writing it, though, so I’m gonna keep going! Just keep in mind if you’re sensitive to domestic violence or trauma stuff, Tubbo’s dealing with the aftermath of all of that in those chapters. They don’t really have to be read in order, either, as long as you understand what’s going on.

Update, 1/4/21: I’m not gonna be able to do all the requests lmao cause school is starting back up... but I’ll do as many as I can. There are a few intense things, a couple of projection/vent shots in here, stuff like that. You’re here because you want it, though. Keep the requests coming- who knows? Maybe I’ll get to yours first. Maybe it’ll be 2 am and I’ll read it and have an idea for it already and just... write it at 2 am. It happens.


	2. Dream and Techno are Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Takes place in the SMP pre-Tommy-exile but in a universe that doesn’t perfectly follow minecraft rules)  
> Dream and Technoblade are secretly friends and help eachother when they need it. If anyone notices that they genuinely care for one another, nobody mentions it.
> 
> Can be read as friendship or something more if you want.

*Clang*

Dream was definitely screwed this time. One person? Sure, he can fight them off. Two? Three? Depends on the people. Four, armed to the teeth in netherite and hellbent on killing him like they were born to do it, while he isn’t even wearing armor? No, Dream is definitely screwed this time.

*Clang*

“Come on, Dream, aren’t you gonna fight back?”  
Another blow of netherite sword to his shield leaves his ears ringing. He isn’t quite sure which of the men is taunting him- probably Fundy, judging by the comment- but he doesn’t have the time nor the focus to worry about that right now because-

*Clang*

-he’s been surrounded and his shield can only be so effective when he’s being hit from every side. He checks his bag, just to be sure; it’s as he thought- no more potions, no more food.

“Oh Dreeeaaaammm~”  
*Clang*

The words sound poisonous- only his friends are allowed to tease him like that! Dream grits his teeth. 

At the next swing of Quackity’s sword, he shoves forward with the shield and ends up on top of the man. Letting out a shriek of surprise, Quackity falls backwards, grappling with his assailant, trying to position his sword in a way that at least protects himself, if not takes down his opponent. Dream flips onto his back just in time to block a swing from President Tubbo himself (the boy really was becoming more like Schlatt every day, wasn’t he?) and hit back with an axe that he’s lucky he brought with him. Perhaps Dream should’ve known better than to walk around the SMP without his armor. 

“Ah!”  
“He’s hit Tubbo!”  
“He does so much damage!”

Another dodge, and Dream stands up, taking another defensive position, ready to swing again when he’s hit on the back of the head with a sword. He whips around, disoriented, to find Sam, whom he had hardly even noticed before, pulling back for another hit. He blocks just in time, being hit (just as he’d expected) from behind with an arrow- two arrows- geez, that really hurts- and he crouches to the side, covering as much of himself as he can with the shield. His head is throbbing. Dream was right, he really is screwed! This is going to be so bad.

Suddenly, arrows rain from above- but not on him. He vaguely hears Tubbo shouting “Retreat!” and sees the blurry figures in front of him running away, back to L’manburg as fast as they can go.

“That’s right, punks! You can run, but you can’t hide! I’ll- oh, they’re gone.”

Dream can’t help but smile at the familiar voice. Technoblade has come to save him. 

“You okay, pal?”

Unbeknownst to most of the SMP, Dream and Technoblade have been friends for a long while, agreeing to mutually protect eachother (while pretending that they don’t actually care for the other’s well-being) without telling anyone, since such an alliance would be considered far too dangerous and they’d probably have the entire SMP against them. 

“Dream? Can you hear me?”

Dream blinks a few times and the blurry pink figure starts to come into focus.  
“Yea. Yea, sorry. I’m fine.”

Techno just laughs and starts checking over his wounds, handing him a regeneration potion and bandaging what he can get to easily. 

“Yea? You certainly look fine. Come on, think you can stand?”  
“Yea, of course, gimme a second.”

Techno extends his hand and Dream grabs it. He pulls- his vision goes fuzzy- he falls backwards. Techno scoops him up as he falls, laughing even harder.

“Yup. Great job.”  
“Shut up, pig boy.”

Half-conscious, Dream registers being carried by Technoblade, possibly through a forest somewhere, drifting in and out before being set down on what appears to be a porch. Techno starts to walk away.

“Thank you.”

He stops and turns his head back. The two make eye contact, saying more than words could ever say in mere seconds. Technoblade nods and turns back, walking to some large trees before shooting an arrow in his direction and ducking. Dream doesn’t even flinch. The arrow hits the doorbell perfectly.

“Coming, coming! Who is it-“

Dream hears the gasp and looks up. Ah. Good choice, Techno. 

“Geooorgeeeee” Dream slurs, half-awake and extremely lightheaded. His arms go up and his hands make grabby motions.

“Oh my god what happened to you?? Are you ok?? Come here.” 

George helps his friend inside, waving a subtle thanks to the trees. This isn’t the first time this has happened.

If anyone sees the trees wave back, nobody mentions it.

If anyone sees that Technoblade sticks around for another while, or comes back later to silently check in, nobody mentions it.

If some extra regeneration and health potions or some baked potatoes mysteriously end up on George’s porch that day, nobody mentions it.

Someday maybe they won’t have to pretend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First oneshot I’ve ever posted to this accursed site! Hope it’s good! If anything is bad or the formatting is messed up, feel free to let me know.


	3. Techno is painfully alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Same type of universe as the last one- SMP, but doesn’t precisely follow Minecraft rules)
> 
> Technoblade’s base his been destroyed, but that’s fine. He’ll just make a new one. It’s fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW for suicidal thoughts at the end.
> 
> You requested Technoblade Angst and this is what my brain did. You’re welcome.

Well, they’ve burned everything.

...

Time to try again, he supposes.

Technoblade picks up the broken pieces of his base, takes whatever is salvageable, and sets out. South didn’t work? He’ll try North this time. Hidden bunker didn’t work? A peaceful cabin, then. Cow farm destroyed? He can make another. He grits his teeth and wipes his eyes with his sleeve even though he’s NOT crying, not even CLOSE, he’s just sweaty or whatever, that’s it. Slow breaths, he reminds himself- four beats in, four beats out. 

“Oh, look who it is!”

Four in.

“Oh my god, is that Technoblade?!”

Four out.

“Guys, stay back! He’s dangerous.”

Four in.

“I just hope he leaves quickly.”

Four out.

Maybe passing through the SMP wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he should have gone further south. Maybe-

“Oh, great, it’s Technoblade.” 

Techno curses under his breath. 

“What do you want, furry?”

Fundy just laughs.

“Something wrong, pig-boy? Something happen to your base? Oh nooo”  
Fundy looks at the gaggle of sheep around him and they all join in on the taunting of “oh no” or “what could have happened” or “who would’ve done this.”

Well, if he had had any doubt about who it was.

Techno sends a glare at Fundy. He gets satisfaction from the flinch it causes. 

“Oh, Techno! Uh...”

Techno looks forward to see good ol’ President Tubbo on the path. His brother. Good, maybe this will be better. Probably not, judging by how nervous Tubbo looks, but a boy can dream.

“Hey Tubbo.”  
“Heeeey... whatcha doin’ here?”  
“Just passing through.”  
“You’re not staying?”  
“Wasn’t planning to.”

Techno doesn’t miss the exhale of relief his brother releases when he says that. 

“Cool. Um. You can just. Go through, then. Buddy. Have fun.”  
“I’ll be sure not to overextend my invitation.”

Techno mutters that as he passes Tubbo, intentionally hitting his shoulder. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry, it’s just...”

Techno doesn’t stop, but he’s listening.

“It’s not like that, okay? I just... you can’t stay, you know? You get it, right?”  
“Of course I get it, Tubbo. I was kidding. I do what I want, but I don’t want to be here anyways.”

“Right!” Tubbo laughs nervously, “See ya, then.”

Techno walks past the docks and away from L’manburg and the SMP. Away from the people, none of whom want to see him.

He was going to retire, y’know. He still is. At least, he’ll try. If they keep torturing him, he might have to snap a bit to keep them in line, but Techno doesn’t really want any more fighting. He just wants to have a nice potato farm somewhere cold and isolated.

Techno wipes his eyes again. 

Clearly nobody wants him around. Clearly all he does is hurt people. Maybe everyone would be better off if he wasn’t here at all, or if he were dead, maybe he should-

No. He’s not going to think like that.

Technoblade grits his teeth even harder and keeps walking.


	4. Ghostbur is Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ghostbur. Everywhere he turns, he seems to upset people, even though all he wants is to make them happy. Why is everyone so sad?
> 
> Again, this is in the same SMPverse my others are in. Post-exile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer than I expected it to be, and the ending is a bit weak, but I quite like it. I feel so bad for Ghostbur. I can’t get over the idea of Ghostbur just completely clearing his head and keeping it as empty as he can because thoughts HURT and make him SAD and we all know he doesn’t need to be even more sad or hurt.
> 
> Let me know if I made formatting or grammar mistakes! Feedback is always appreciated.

Tubbo, Fundy, Quackity, Phil, and Ranboo are all sitting together in town square, laughing and joking. Having fun. Because they’re friends. Ghostbur sees them from the end of the path and smiles. He starts to walk toward them...

...and flinches back. 

He quickly crouches behind the closest building and swears under his breath. How can he possibly be friends with them? They all have memories, inside jokes- they’ve been friends for so long, and he can only remember bits and pieces of his life. Will they even want to talk to him? He won’t be able to relate to them. Maybe he should just leave.

No no, he’s done this before. It’ll be fine. Ghostbur clears his mind as much as he can, plasters on his trademark smile, and strides forward with confidence.

“Hello guys!”

He’s met with mixed reactions- some excitement, some attempts at feigned excitement, and some who are simply annoyed to see him. Again, he purges his mind and moves forward.

“Ghostbur! Great to see you, how are you?”

He always appreciates Tubbo’s enthusiastic greetings. It makes him feel wanted, even if he isn’t.

“Doing great! Hey, have some blue!”

Because he doesn’t know what else to do to make them happy, he passes out some of one of the only things that still seems to be able to bring him joy. Again, mixed reactions.

“Oh, uh... thanks”  
“Oh god, not this again...”  
“Aww, thank you Wilbur!”

Ghostbur empties his mind of any thoughts other than making sure he’s smiling.

“So what are you guys talking about?”

They look between one another nervously.   
Oh, they were talking about him. 

“Oh, just, umm... L’manburg history stuff. You know the story.” Tubbo offers a gentle version of the topic. 

Ghostbur’s smile is genuine for a moment. It fades again when he sees that Fundy, his SON- well, not anymore, he supposes- isn’t having any of it,

“We’re talking about all the genocide you caused. You know, the 11 stacks of TNT? Or even before that, the entire election that was supposed to be faked? The whole-“  
Ghostbur quickly fixes his smile.  
“Oh boy, I’d actually rather not talk about that at all! But we can talk about something else-“  
“You always do that. You avoid talking about the problems, the serious issues, the pain you caused-“  
“-we could talk about sheep! I saw a pink one the other day, genuinely natural-“  
“-you know, you can’t just pretend you didn’t murder innocent people when you were alive-“  
“-I took the sheep back to my home! Has anyone else gotten any new pets recently? Because-“  
“-and I know, I know: ‘that was alivebur! Iiiiii’m Ghostbur!’ But you’re still him, aren’t you? You still-“  
“-new pets can be very exciting, and I know I’m excited-“  
“-have to take responsibility for your actions, and-“

“QUIET! BOTH OF YOU!”

Fundy and Wilbur stop talking over eachother and look at Tubbo, Wilbur looking sheepish and on the edge of tears, while Fundy just looks angry. 

“I’m sick of hearing you two argue. Fundy, it’s not going to work, he isn’t willing to talk about it, get over it. He’s too messed up still.”   
“That’s not an excuse! He has to take responsibility-“

Oh great, the two of them are bickering now. The two voices fade out as Ghostbur loses himself in his own head; he did this to them. If he hadn’t walked over, they’d all still be happy and laughing, but no, he just had to ruin it.

With the same plastic smile still stuck on his face, Ghostbur turns around and begins to walk away, quietly saying something about how it was nice to see them and he’s busy. 

“Ghostbur? Where you goin’?”  
“Wil, no, you don’t have to leave-“

He drinks an invisibility potion and slips away. 

Maybe he’ll go see someone else. Who, though? Perhaps Tommy! He’s all alone out there, with the exception of Dream- although Ghostbur isn’t quite sure he understands the relationship between the two, or the situation at all- Tommy could use some companionship. Tommy could probably even use some blue! 

“Tommy! Hello?”

Ghostbur shouts as he steps out of the nether portal into the Logferdshire area. Tommy is sitting quietly by his tent. He looks up slowly. Too slowly.

“Tommy!!”  
“Wilbur? What are you doing here?”  
“I brought you some blue!”

Before Tommy can argue, Ghostbur has already thrown the blue to him. Reluctantly, he takes it. Ghostbur just keeps smiling.

“I thought you might like some company!”  
“Why did it have to be you?”

Ghostbur is taken aback for a moment. Why him? They’re friends, aren’t they?

“Oh well, I suppose somebody is better than nobody. I’m so lonely, Wilbur...”

He shoves the disappointment deep down within him. He’ll use some blue to get rid of that later.

“Well, now I’m here! We can hang out together, and build something, or go on an adventure, or bake a cake! What do you want to do, Tommy?”  
“...nothing.”

He says it as if it’s the only reply he’s able to give. Ghostbur hesitates again. Tommy takes the pause as a cue to keep talking,

“I can’t do anything, Wilbur. I’m too tired. I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten. Why has nobody come to visit me?”  
Ghostbur bites his tongue to keep from pointing out that he himself has come to visit numerous times.  
“Why are the only people I ever see you and Dream? God, the only people who ever visit me are YOU and DREAM.”  
Tommy starts to laugh hysterically. Ghostbur flinches.  
“Dream! My good friend Dream. Where is he? He hasn’t stopped by yet today. Why are you here instead of Dream? I want to see Dream.”  
Now Ghostbur is simply confused. Before, Tommy hated Dream. Wasn’t he hurting Tommy? What changed?  
“Everyone important has forgotten about me...”

Ghostbur bites his tongue so hard that it bleeds (which is really saying something, considering he’s a ghost) and turns to leave as Tommy sobs uncontrollably on the ground. All he can do is silently hope that maybe he can take some comfort or happiness in the blue. He steps back through the nether portal.

What now? Where will he go? He has no idea where Nikki is. Technoblade? No, Techno tries to be nice, but he always seems to be in Techno’s way. Phil is back in L’manburg with everyone else who he made unhappy. Oh, what’s the matter with him? Why can’t he go anywhere without being a nuisance? Why does his presence always make everyone upset?

Slowly and quietly, and through the use of another invisibility potion, Ghostbur makes his way back into his home in the sewers. He puts his bottles back in his chest and takes out some more blue, laying on his bed and surrounding himself with it.

This time, it doesn’t help.

Ghostbur cries himself to sleep.


	5. Tommy runs off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you think happens?? TOMMY RUNS OFF.
> 
> (Keep in mind, this is a real-world-esque AU, with Philza/Dadza, brother!Wilbur brother!Techno and Tubbo is BFF. In this universe, they all play Minecraft, Techno is a youtuber, Wilbur writes music, Phil works in electronics, and Tommy... well, he’s providing the content, so shut up. Here, Tommy and Tubbo are 15, Wilbur is 17, and Techno is 18. Dadza is dad-aged. Also, Tommy has ADHD (and possibly undiagnosed depression) because I like to project, and Wilbur and Techno have depression, but it hits them differently. I’ll do more in this ‘verse. You’ll see)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warnings: Depression and self-loathing, running away from home, possibly even claustrophobia triggers. 
> 
> Yea, our boy is a bit messed up in this one.

“There! Did you like it?”

Everyone praises Wilbur and his new song enthusiastically, clapping and chattering excitedly over his abilities and passion. Tommy smiles, a genuine smile, for the first time today. Maybe it was even the first time this weekend. Or this week. He isn’t quite sure. He claps along with his family, enthusing about the wonderful song while Wilbur blushes and tries not to hide his face in his hands. 

“Aww, guys, stoppit...”  
“No, really- it was fantastic! Good job, Wilbur!”  
“it actually was. sweet tunes, bro.

Man, Tommy wishes he had something like that. Y’know, something he’s really actually good at? Something to make people say “Good job, Tommy” the way that they say “Good job, Wilbur.” Alas, he tries not to think about that for the next few minutes until everyone disperses for the night. Only Dadza ever actually goes to bed at this time, but everyone else pretends that they do and simply tries not to be too loud for the rest of the night. None of this fools him, of course, but he’d prefer that the boys start winding down at roughly this time anyways.

Tommy sits on the bed in his room with his face in his hands, breathing heavily. It’s 10:15 pm and he already knows he won’t be sleeping tonight. His thoughts are too loud and too fast. He can’t stop them. He can’t stop them wHY won’t they STOP-

Breathe, he tells himself. Breathe. In and out. That’s it. 

Why is he so pathetic? 

Tommy understands that this probably isn’t a healthy thing to think about himself, but he’s so convinced that it’s true that he keeps thinking it anyways. Why is he so pathetic? Why can’t he regulate his own emotions? Why is he so messed up when everyone else is so not? Why do people even keep him around?

Well, the last one is easy, he decides: obligation. Dadza can’t just get rid of him. He’s his son! You can’t just suddenly not have a child and expect nobody to ask questions. Dadza is simply stuck with him. By proxy, so is Wilbur and so is Technoblade. God, he really is a nuisance, isn’t he?

Perhaps he should just leave. Perhaps it would be better for them if he weren’t here at all, if he disappeared. 

Tommy stands up, groaning audibly, and starts to pace around the room. It isn’t the first time he’s had those thoughts. In fact, recently, it’s been every night that he’s thought “Maybe I should just go” and looked longingly at his backpack, which he’s doing right now, and he didn’t even realize it until this moment- Tommy curses under his breath and pointedly looks away, his eyes ending up towards the window. 

The window.

He hasn’t considered the window yet.

He’d always stopped himself by saying that someone would hear or see him going out the door at night. But the window? Oh, he could do so many bad things with that window. He finds himself smiling again, but it’s a sick smile with bad ideas and he hates it. He hates himself for considering this. 

“Hate myself for everything, actually.” He mutters, sitting down on his bed without taking his eyes off the window.

He and the window have a staring contest. He has no idea how long it lasts.

The window wins.

Grimacing, Tommy grabs his empty backpack (he isn’t quite sure when he dumped out the contents, actually... it was full a minute ago... man, he knew he was going to do this, didn’t he?) and shoves some supplies in it: jacket, water, crackers, money, flashlight. He picks up his phone, hesitates, then puts it back down. His phone can be tracked, and if they find him, they’ll have to take him back, and then they’ll be stuck with him again. Tommy wouldn’t dare place that burden upon them. 

Tommy climbs out of his window, half jumping two stories down to the grass and half climbing down a jump rope that he tied there. His feet hit the solid ground with a thud.

He runs.

Tommy runs blindly, choking through tears as quietly as he can in case someone is near, until he can’t physically run anymore and he collapses. Now he REALLY doesn’t know what time it is. How long was he running? His lungs burn. Is that normal?

With a heaving breath, Tommy sits on the ground and looks at his surroundings. He’s apparently run through a forest and is now... somewhere in the middle of it. Surprising even himself, Tommy throws his head back (hard enough that it hits the tree behind him and HURTS) and laughs. He laughs a full-bellied laugh and squeezes his eyes shut. It burns his lungs and he’s still crying harshly, but he doesn’t care. He just laughs. He did it! Tommy has escaped the house unseen and is now in the middle of nowhere where he can’t bother anybody anymore. He successfully made an objectively terrible decision! He can say “Good job, Tommy!” out loud to himself, since he’s the only one who’s even here, and he did do a good job. Definitely. Because this is definitely good. He laughs until he’s gasping for air again and it dies down to light chuckles, then to silence.

Slowly realizing that he is, indeed, in the middle of nowhere, and nobody is here to protect him, Tommy forces his eyes open so he can check out his surroundings a bit more thoroughly.

The dark trees loom over his head, high enough to feel threatening but low enough to make him feel like trapped and claustrophobic. He gasps in another breath, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes long enough to take in his environment. It’s incredibly dark, and the flashlight he brought is cheap and awful, so he can’t see very far in front of him at all, which he finds incredibly unnerving. The sounds of nature at night can be heard all around him, from the piercing cricket chirps to the oddly cold and distant bird chirping to the deep and ominous hoots of some kind of owl. The grass feels grainy and rough beneath his hands. His pants are covered in dirt and his hands are scratched (When did he even fall?) and covered in the same dirt. His side is bleeding a bit and there’s a hole in his shirt from some branch that must have scratched him somewhere. The trees rustle behind him, startling him. It’s enough to make him jump onto his feet with his flashlight in his hand, more useful as a weapon than a light.

“W-w-who’s there?”

Nobody responds. Nobody is there to respond. Tommy is alone.

“Oh god, what have I done?” He mutters,  
“I’ve got to get out of here.”

He reaches for his phone- but he didn’t bring it. There’s nothing there. 

Shocked still by his own stupidity, Tommy stands in place in the forest until another bush rustles, harder than the last, and he’s running.

He doesn’t really know where he’s running to, but he’s pretty sure he came from vaguely this direction. Either way, as long as he runs straight, he’ll eventually get out of the forest. 

Evidently he hadn’t run as far in as he had feared, as after roughly fifteen or twenty minutes of nearly straight adrenaline-fueled running, he’s out. He doesn’t recognize the name of the street he comes out on, but he’s pretty sure it’s one of those neighborhoods behind his- yes, there we are, a street that he does recognize. Maybe?

Tommy spends another twenty minutes wandering conspicuously around the neighborhood, trying to find his house, but eventually he finds it. He sighs in relief and nearly falls to his knees when he does. 

“Lucky thing I put this here, ay?” He mutters to himself, climbing up the jump rope and praying it doesn’t break. It doesn’t, and he successfully reaches his room. He collapses on the floor to cry, glancing at the clock as he does.

1:06 AM. 

He was gone for two and a half hours. 

Oh god, he was gone, completely missing, making the stupidest decisions ever, for two and a half hours. Thank god nobody noticed.

Tommy isn’t going to admit that a part of him wishes that somebody had noticed. Worried that he was missing. Cared.

Nevertheless, he doesn’t trust himself to be alone right now, he decides.

As quickly as he can, whilst drying his tears and wiping some of the dirt off with a wet washcloth, Tommy changes into his pajamas. Briefing worrying whether someone will be upset with him for scratching his shirt, he gives himself one last glance over and, with confidence that he simply doesn’t have, Tommy walks out of his room and up to Dadza’s open door. He hesitates before entering.

Maybe he shouldn’t wake up Dad. No, he definitely shouldn’t. That would bother him, and he shouldn’t waste his time on Tommy because Tommy’s useless and bothersome and-

“Tommy? That you, bud?”

A long pause. Too long.

“Yea, Dad. ‘s me.”

Dadza sits up on his bed and waves the boy over, which Tommy can barely see the silhouette of in the dark. Tommy slowly shuffles over, eyes wide, sniffling. 

“You ok? Had a nightmare or something?”  
“Yea.” Running into the forest counts as ‘or something,’ right?  
“Wanna sleep here tonight, buddy?”  
“Please.”

Dadza moves over and helps Tommy into the bed. His hand brushes across what he can tell is tears in the process, but he doesn’t mention it. He just holds his son as warmly and lovingly as he can.

“m’ sorry.”  
“It’s ok, Tommy. I’m not ever gonna be upset at you for needing me.”

This only makes Tommy curl up into his father more, the cries becoming audible again. Dadza makes a mental note as he brushes his son’s hair back calmingly, shushing him like he’s a frightened kitten. 

“m’ really sorry, Dad. Sorry. So sorry.”

Eventually, Tommy falls asleep in his dad’s arms, still crying and still with mumbled apologies on his lips. Dadza wipes away his own tears and, holding Tommy as close to himself as possible, whispering sweet words as coherently as he can, falls back asleep as well. They’re going to talk about this in the morning, but for now?

Tommy is simply loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this might have been a bit of a vent fic for me? Whoops. But I hope you liked it anyways :)


	6. Tubbo almost dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew goes camping (eh, kinda) and Tubbo runs into an old... friend.
> 
> (Tubbo + SBI kidnapping/hurting, drowning, and saved, as requested by “yaho!”) (I hope this fits with what you wanted)
> 
> (Set in a family SMPverse during Schlatt presidency days)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings, except maybe violence? This is a classic hurt/comfort. Poor Tubbo doesn’t deserve this. Also WE LOVE STRONG DAD PHIL

“This ISN’T camping.”  
“Sure it is!”  
“I CAN SEE THE HOUSE!!”

Tubbo laughs at his brother’s argument with his dad- Tommy always gets as loud and obnoxious as he can, especially when he’s arguing, and Philza always stays calm and cheerful. It’s clear that they’re both enjoying the argument, although his brother may be trying to pretend he isn’t.

Tommy has a point, though. They *can* see the Pogtopia entrance, and in fact, most of the SMP from here. They’ve just... made some tents in the forest. This most definitely isn’t camping.

“I don’t see a problem with it.” 

Everyone’s eyes turn to Technoblade as he scarfs down another cookie and reaches for the barrel again.

“No no, Tech. I don’t think you need any more cookies.” Phil scolds him, getting up and shutting the barrel. Techno scoffs and crosses his arms.  
“Fine. Then this camping trip sucks.”  
“NOT a camping trip!”  
“Shut up, Tommy.”

Phil walks back over to Tommy, who is still fuming.

“Tommy. Son. Please. I know we’re not exactly isolated, but... it’s not safe if we go very far. Schlatt is out and about, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Everyone tries to keep their eyes from flying to Tubbo. He still notices. Nobody says anything.  
Tubbo only recently escaped from JSchlatt and the rest of Manburg. Schlatt had been using him as an assistant and horribly abusing him for two months until Phil and Techno finally snuck in and got him out of there- he’s never been more grateful for his loving family than that day. He still shudders when he thinks about the things Schlatt did to him and would have kept doing to him... what could have happened... he still has scars...

Finally acknowledging the logical part of the issue, Tommy agrees,  
“Fine, we’ll do this. It’s still not camping.”  
Phil grins widely,  
“Whatever makes you feel better, Tommy.”

It’s evening, and Tubbo and Tommy are rushing to get more water and berries before the sun sets so much that they can’t see well. Well, they probably should be rushing, at least. They’re actually just laughing and wrestling on the edge of the river. 

Until Tubbo sees something behind his brother.

SomeONE, he realizes.

His eyes widen.

“Tommy, LOOK OUT!” He shouts, grabbing his dear brother and backing up and towards camp as much as he can as Tommy lets out a squeal of confusion. The familiar ominous laughter starts.

“Awww... that’s so cute! Your little... family.”

Tommy whips around, immediately in battle mode. Or, as much as he can be without any sort of weaponry or armor. 

“You! How DARE you! Stay back, Schlatt! What do you want?! Why-“  
“Shut up, Tommy. I wasn’t talking to you.”  
Tubbo gulps.  
“Now, Tubbo. My dearest, darlingest Tubbo.”  
He laughs again. Tubbo can’t seem to stop shaking. Schlatt starts walking forward slowly, step by step.

“What’s the matter? We’re friends, aren’t we? Ah, we used to be. Remember that, Tubbo? I wish we could have that back. Remember? Hey- I asked you a question. You remember?”

Out of purely habit, Tubbo nods. He’s barely even able to hold back his formal verbal answer- it was trained into him more deeply than anyone else thought.

“Good boy. Gee, I wish you hadn’t left. I really like you, Tubbo, little buddy. Hey, here’s a though- why don’t you come back with me? We can make everything just like it was before.”

The boys hadn’t noticed until now, but Schlatt was getting uncomfortably close. Tubbo’s mind is spinning in circles. Tommy speaks up,  
“No! Absolutely not! You can’t have him. We aren’t going to sit here and let you abuse him again!”  
Schlatt, in his horribly nauseating and frightening way, simply laughs again. It’s a cold and bitter laugh.  
“We? You’re alone, kid. You mean you.”  
“Stay back-”  
“-And anyways, I thought I told you I wasn’t talking to you-“  
“-I swear to god I’ll kill you-“  
“-Oh, you’re going to kill me? That’s rich-“  
“-or I’ll scream, and Phil will hear it-“  
“-You think I’ll feel threatened by anything that you say or do? No. Not you.”  
“-and our family will come save us! Because we love eachother, and- no I really mean it this time, get back! Go away!”

Before anyone can react, Schlatt reaches out and grabs Tubbo by the hair, yanking him away from Tommy and towards only him. He pulls him against his chest and puts a knife at his throat, staring directly through Tommy, whose eyes are icy with shock.

“Leave. Now, child. Leave. Run. Or else.”  
The knife presses into Tubbo’s neck painfully. He’s pretty sure he can feel blood trickling down his neck and into his shirt. He looks at his brother, who now just seems concerned and confused and angry and is having far too many emotions at once. Tubbo mouths the words ‘Get help.’ Looking guilty for leaving his brother behind, Tommy turns and runs back towards the campsite. Schlatt laughs again, this time more quietly.  
“Looks like it’s just you and me.”

Using his hold on Tubbo’s hair, Schlatt yanks his head up until their eyes are level and making contact, forcing Tubbo to be on his toes and whimpering at the pain in his head.

“One chance, Tubbo. Come back with me. Right now. It’ll all be just like before. You can work for me again.”

Tubbo inhales slowly, focuses, and looks JSchlatt dead in the eyes,

“I’d rather die than work for you again.”

A flash of genuine surprise passes through Schlatt’s face, but before Tubbo has the time to take any satisfaction in it, Schlatt is laughing again.

“Then die!”

Schlatt picks the small man’s frame almost entirely up before he can defend himself and tosses him head-first into the river. Judging by the smirk Tubbo barely sees as he flies through the air, Schlatt remembers that he can’t swim. He hits his head on one of the rocks during his landing- hard. His vision blurs as he flails with his remaining energy and Schlatt disappears into the distance, his ominous laugh echoing behind him. 

“Help! HELP! GUYS!”  
Phil looks up in concern as Tommy sprints into vision, panting heavily from the effort of running. Immediately he notices what’s wrong with the picture.

“Tommy? What happened? Where’s Tubbo?”  
“Tubbo- I tried to- I couldn’t- Schlatt was- he has- oh- SCHLATT.” Tommy can hardly speak through his heavy panting and even heavier crying. Phil’s expression steels, but his voice remains calm and gentle.  
“Where is he? I need you to take us there, now.”  
Tommy nods weakly. 

The trio stands up, Techno’s face just as steely as Phil’s, Wilbur more expressive in his panic and concern, but they all have the same firey rage in their eyes. Half-carrying Tommy, Phil leads the way based on Tommy’s direction as fast as they can go until they make it to the river. They look around.

“No sign of Schlatt” Wilbur points out.  
“No sign of Tubbo,” Techno grimly adds, “unless...”

And at the same time, the rest of them notice what Techno sees. Blood. Starting from a harsh rock in the middle of the river and continuing downstream. Cursing under his breath, Wilbur runs to follow it, the whole group behind him, watching the water for any sign of human life.

“There!” Tommy points vaguely. Phil, without thinking, jumps into the water in the direction Tommy pointed. This is his son. He. Will. Do. Anything.

Phil reaches around, keeping one foot on a sturdy rock so as not to be dragged by the current, frantically searching until he sees him- his Tubbo- caught on a log in the river with his head underwater and blood covering his upper half. With reckless abandon, Phil jumps to the log and grabs his son, pulling him above water and, with an adrenaline-fueled one-handed climb, onto the far shore. He sees the others a bit further down out of the corner of his eye, trying to cross the river where it’s shallow in order to get to them. He notes it but focuses on the task before him, trying not to cry at the sight. 

Tubbo has a concerning, bleeding gash across his neck and bloody scratches down his arms. His face is discolored and he isn’t breathing, but his heart is still beating. Priorities: breathing, then blood loss. 

Phil turns Tubbo onto his side, doing his best to force the water out. Tubbo starts to sputter a bit, still unconscious. A splash potion lands beside them as the boys run up- evidently, Wilbur brought the emergency bag. Smart boy. God, Phil is so proud of his sons. He extends his arm towards Wilbur with a grabbing motion, and Wilbur silently hands him the bag. He rifles through it for bandages as Tubbo finally coughs up what appears to be the vast majority of the water, and he is apparently also semi-conscious, as he’s screaming bloody murder. Phil adopts a warm and gentle voice,

“Tubbo- stay still, buddy. I’ve got you. It’s alright, I’ve-“  
“NO! Get AWAY from me IM NOT GOING BACK!”  
He’s clearly not conscious enough to be cooperative right now. Phil changes tactics, looking to the rest of his sons blandly and telling them firmly,  
“Help me hold him.”

The boys spring into action without question, Techno settling himself behind Tubbo who is now half-sitting up and facing Phil, whom he clearly can’t tell is Phil. Techno grabs his arms and pulls him against his chest, pinning him just hard enough to keep him there, being forceful but trying not to hurt him. Tommy sits next to him whispering friendly things as much as he can and holding his hand while Wilbur brushes back his hair and gently keeps his head tipped back so that Phil can get to the wound. Tubbo is still crying and struggling, but no longer problematically, and he’ll probably fall unconscious soon and forget all of this.

Phil is impressed. This is even more effective than he’d hoped for. Full of fatherly pride, he gets to work on bandaging the wound. He partially succeeds. 

“Damn, this needs another potion.” Phil reaches into the bag again, pulling out and popping open another health potion, but there aren’t any more splashes,  
“Tubbo, I need you to drink this for me, ok? Tubbo? Can you hear me?”  
All Tubbo can do in response is sob and plead incoherently. Phil gulps and, with a mumbled apology and ignoring Tommy’s shocked face next to him, shoves the potion into Tubbo’s mouth and covers his nose, focusing on saying one word very clearly and firmly,  
“Swallow.”  
It works. Once the potion is gone, Phil removes his hands and allows Tubbo to go back to gasping for air. The bleeding immediately slows to a stop.  
“Did you actually just do that?” A very shocked Tommy asks.  
“Yes.” Is the blunt reply. Phil isn’t going to waste his time trying to sugar coat it or explain it right now.  
“It was the right thing to do, Tommy, and frankly he was brave for doing it. Now shut up and let him work.”  
Techno’s words and harsh glare make Tommy finally shut up. Tubbo’s squirming dies down and his cries dissolve into pained, frightened whimpers. Techno releases his grip and focuses on keeping the boy steady and semi-upright. 

Eventually, Tubbo has almost completely stopped making noises, and Phil has done everything he can about the injuries. Tubbo is going to be fine.

“Alright. Wilbur, get the bag. I’ll carry him home.” Phil declares tiredly.  
“Yea... no.” Techno decides, picking up his unconscious and injured brother himself, bridal style, “You just dealt with all of that- and you did the swimming. I’ll carry him.”

Phil tries to argue and finds himself without the energy. He resolves to help Tommy walk. It ends up more the other way around, but none of them will ever mention it.  
The group swings by the campsite to grab their bags, completely abandoning the tents, and heads back home. There is little discussion on the way, until,

“Dadza?” Tommy asks, “Did Tubbo ever tell you any details about what happened with Schlatt?”  
As Phil shakes his head, Wilbur starts,  
“He’s told me some, actually. Bits and pieces.”  
The others look at him. Tubbo rarely talked about his Schlatt days, so as much as they want to respect his privacy, they’re all eager for details.  
“I mean, he said he hit him and stuff, of course. But the main part I remember he told me about is the... ‘training’ stuff? Like, there were rules- some code of conduct he was supposed to follow- and whenever he broke a rule, he’d get beat up. For a while apparently Schlatt actually made him wear this, like... dog collar, around his ankle, and he’d get shocked whenever he didn’t do exactly what he was meant to.”  
The men’s eyes are wide and they’re all having trouble forming words, especially seeing how calm Wilbur is and knowing it means he’s probably cried about this many times already.  
“What he was meant to? Like, when he gave him orders?” Tommy’s curiosity turns his vocal chords back on first  
“Ha, I asked that too. Yea, but it was also if he didn’t have good enough manners or perfect responses or whatever. Y’know, ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’ or referring to him as ‘mister president,’ dumb stuff like that. Just to break him down, make him more... obedient. Probably really also for an excuse to hurt him.”  
There’s a long pause while they try to process the information. Wilbur asks another question before they’re fully finished,  
“What exactly happened today, Tommy?”  
A nervous and slightly hysterical laugh,  
“I’m still not really sure. Schlatt just showed up- appeared from the trees or whatever- he was laughing and taunting and threatening us- tryna give Tubbo orders or whatever- Tubbo actually nodded at him once, when he was told to answer some question- I don’t really remember- and Schlatt actually said ‘Good boy.’ Imagine that! ‘Good boy’?!?! What the fuuck?! And he got really close to us but he was moving slow so we didn’t notice until it was too late, and-“  
Tommy stops for a minute to slow down his breathing. Phil squeezes his hand.  
“-and he grabbed Tubbo by the hair really fast and put a knife to his throat and told me to leave and I- well I didn’t know what to do- and Tubbo mouthed at me to ‘get help’ so I did- oh, guys, I left him, this is my fault-“  
“Stop right there, Tommy.” Phil interrupts sternly, “This is absolutely not your fault. Not even a little bit. There wasn’t anything you could have done, none of us anticipated this. Under no circumstances are you to blame yourself for any of this. Do you understand?”  
Tommy looks up through tears at the intense, burning love in his father’s eyes and nods. 

“Does Schlatt do that to all of his workers?” Phil finally finds the words to ask Wilbur.  
“Most of them, apparently. Do you think we’ll ever be safe from Schlatt?”

Everyone knows the “we” is mostly Tubbo. Nobody mentions it.

“With the kind of asshole he’s being? Yea, he’s not going to last much longer. Governments are born to be overthrown.”  
“Techno’s right, people aren’t going to let themselves keep being crushed like that. Fear can only rule for so long.”  
“And we’ll be glad to give that a helping hand.”  
The boys grin at Techno’s lighthearted addition, even though they all know he’s serious.  
“Fear can only rule for so long. I like the way that sounds!” Tommy exclaims. Wilbur makes an excited noise,  
“You’re a PHIL-osopher! Ha!”  
Phil pity-laughs at the awful pun. Tommy laughs genuinely and Techno groans. 

Yea, they’re going to be fine.

Fear can only rule for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! It’s 2 AM and I’m writing fanfiction. I plan on putting a bonus scene at the end of this where Tubbo wakes up... y’know, if I remember. Which I won’t, probably. But for now, I should stop being dehydrated! Toodles!


	7. Ghostbur’s Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Set in a DSMP verse blah blah blah not exact Minecraft rules blah blah SBI family- timeline: Techno, Phil, Ghostbur, and possibly Tommy but not included, are living semi-peacefully at Techno’s base together.) 
> 
> Sometimes, it’s just one of those days. For Ghostbur, that day is today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: PTSD flashbacks and a full blown panic attack

It’s just one of those days.

It’s nobody’s fault, this just happens sometimes; Ghostbur knows that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make the never-ending flood of sadness, the helpless grasping only to grab nothing, the far-too-vivid flashes of bloodier, more terrifying memories, go away. 

_“Our nation’s gone, our nation’s far behind us, Tommy- let’s blow them to smithereens.” ___

Nothing can get rid of the crushing overwhelmingness of too many emotions, all swallowing him up until he’s completely drowned in a pitch black sea of desperation. 

_“Do you know what happens to traitors, Tubbo?”_

Wilbur squirms away from whoever is touching him. He doesn’t want them to get hurt like everyone else he’s ever come near.

_“N...no?”  
“Nothing good.”_

“Is he gonna be okay?”  
Techno rarely shows concern for another person- in any other situation, this would be a happy moment, worthy of smiles and praise.  
“I’m sure he will be. I just wish I knew how to help him.”

_“Hey Technoblade, you wanna come up here for a second? Let’s just send a message real quick. We like to send messages around here.”_

Ghostbur shrieks, unsure if Techno’s voice is from real life or the memory- unsure if there even IS a life beyond the memory for him anymore.

_”Technoblade please, if you would- if you would be so kind.”  
“Wh... what are you askin’, Schlatt?”  
“Take care of him.”  
“You want me to, uh... get him some breakfast? Get him a nice coat? What- what do you mean be take care of him?”_

The hand that was holding Ghostbur switches to rubbing up and down his arm comfortingly. He doesn’t understand. This isn’t a comfortable situation at all.

_“Techno, I... I need you to take him out.”  
“To dinner?”  
“I- you’re not gonna take him out to dinner, bro, you’re gonna KILL HIM.”  
“Oh. OH!”  
“You’re gonna kill him right now-“  
“Oh- that- yea”  
“ON THIS FUCKING STAGE. And make it HURT.”_

Ghostbur hears Techno’s voice from two realities at once and it makes him shrink further into himself. He can’t breathe anymore.

_”Oh no. I’m in a high stress situation. I deal with these poorly.”_

“Son? Hey- it’s alright. It’s alright, come here-“

__________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

But Wilbur didn’t even care afterwards. He didn’t care that Techno had murdered his best friend in cold blood.  
Hold on, don’t get ahead of yourself, Ghosty, that hasn’t happened yet.

_“Schlatt, are you sure? We have him trapped, he’s JAILED, I think-“  
“Not enough.”_

“Wilbur please say something. Please come back. Wake up. I’m scared.”

_“Tubbo, I’m sorry. I’ll make this as painless and colorful as possible, Tubbo.”  
“Techno- what the hell?!”  
“Tubbo, I’m sorry!”_

Ghostbur sits upright with a shock. He’s still crying. He really hadn’t thought Techno would do that. Someone holds him as he babbles and mumbles nearly incoherently.  
“I’m sorry, Tubbo. I could’ve stopped him. I should have stopped him.”

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Techno guiltily looks away, realizing exactly what incident Ghostbur is reliving. Phil squeezes his hand.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Son? You okay now?”

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He shoves his hands in his hair and pulls tightly. Of course he isn’t okay. How could he be okay? He destroyed a whole country-  
It’s then that he recognizes the other voice in the room.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Son?”

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“You’re my son!”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Oh. Oh god.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_”Kill me! Kill me, Phil!”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

This is a memory that he does have, of course, but it turns sour as he accesses the rest of it- unveils the curtain on the insanity, the desperation, the longing for something he’ll never have. The fact that he actively begged for his own death tastes like ash in his mouth.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“There was a saying, Phil, by a traitor. Uh- once part of L’manburg.”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He curls up again, falling onto his side on the bed and shaking violently. 

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“It was never meant to be.”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The memories come crashing together- that line is burned within him not once, but twice, and it feels like he’s being torn apart. Scenes from wildly different times and places flash at him from all directions, words falling from nowhere, stabbing straight into his temples.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“Down with the revolution, boys. It was never meant to be.”  
“Eret, how could you?”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

His mind is being ripped into tiny little pieces, fragments of the man he once was, the man he hasn’t been for a very long time.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“It was never meant to be”  
*Click*  
“Oh my god- you didn’t...”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Each memory, each word, each second is a tiny paper cut inside his skull, digging deeper and wider until he’ll eventually bleed out from a billion tiny little cuts.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“I have secured our independence.”  
“You what?”  
“What”  
“How?”  
“What- how, what did you do? How did you-“  
“I gave him the discs, Wil. I gave him the discs.”  
“YOU GAVE UP YOUR DISCS?”  
“...all of them?”  
“All- Shut up, ERET! Yea, ALL OF THEM.”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He’s drowning. 

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“The whole place is rigged.”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He can’t feel anything but pain. 

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“MY L’manburg! My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished!”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The memories are too much.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“Eret, listen to me- and I mean this in the nicest way possible- You Fucked Up.”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He feels like he’s being tossed around by his brain like a rag doll. It HURTS. More than he could possibly communicate.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_”I heard there was a special place,  
Where men could go and emancipate,  
The brutality, and cruelty, of their rulers.”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The pressure- his head is throbbing.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“Do you know what this button is?”  
“Uh huh. I do.”  
“Have you heard the song, on the walls- I was saying, there WAS a special place, where men could go an- but it’s not there anymore.”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He needs it to stop.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“Phil, kill me. Stab me with the sword. Murder me now, Phil. Kill me- kill me. Do it. Kill me, Phil, murder me- look, they all want you to! Do it, Phil- kill me, Phil, kill me-“  
“You’re my son! No matter what you do, I could never-“_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop,

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“Well this place is real, you needn’t fret,  
With Wilbur Tommy Tubbo, Fuck Eret-“_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!”

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“Do you know how many stacks of TNT I got in the end?”  
“I- I don’t-“  
“Eleven. Eleven and a half stacks.”_

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He feels his jaw grasped tightly. A gentle hand wipes the tears from his blurred vision and he sees Phil, his dad, directly in front of him.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Can you hear me, Wilbur? You. Are. Fine. None of that is happening right now. You’re here, with me, and we’re safe and happy and fine. Do you understand me?”

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wilbur can’t help but continue to cry as he leaps into his father’s arms, sobs wracking his body. 

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“It’s okay now. It’s all okay now. Don’t worry about a thing. Phil will take care of you. Dad will take care of you.”  
“Dad... need my dad... Dad...”  
“That’s right. I’m here.”

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sometimes, you just have one of those days.

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! Started writing at 11:30pm and now it’s 2am. Looks like I’m not doing anything else tonight! Sleepy time :)
> 
> This idea genuinely makes me very sad though. I love Ghostbur- he’s all the fun of Wilbur but without as many homicidal tendencies!


	8. Tommy Is Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from Mintycloud
> 
> DSMP verse. Starts right after the survived Techno execution. Techno sees Tommy at his house, but I did the scene slightly differently, since I think traumatized Tommy would be a little more careful. Techno comforts his baby brother. Lots of hurt/comfort today, folks, get ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attacks, PTSD, emotional manipulation

Technoblade is sick and tired of people trying to kill him.

Seriously, people fight him, they chase him, they tear down his old base, and now a formal execution? When are these people going to learn- Technoblade Never Dies.

Either way, Techno is tiredly making his way home, trying to come up with a safer place for Carl the horse, when-  
Did his door just move?

He swears he just saw his front door open and shut. Is someone in his house?

Carefully, Technoblade approaches his house, puts Carl back in his pen, and leans against his lower door to listen inside. He hears a scuffle and slowly opens the door just in time to see a block replaced in his floor. Donning his backup armor, he looks around- various chests are open, items are moved or missing, and he still swears he hears something coming from below him.

Who the hell is in his house?! Whoever it is is a mess- this whole plan seems poorly thought out. They didn’t even try to hide the fact that they stole his stuff! Somebody’s probably going to die for this.

Finally, Technoblade pulls aside the hastily covered block in his basement to reveal a ladder to a small room. He climbs down backwards, facing out into the odd room. It’s yellow, with a bed and a chest and another door and nothing else- upon further investigation, the chest is full of exclusively things stolen from him. As he closes the chest, he hears something from behind the door. A person. A... crying person? Ever-cautious, Techno opens the door sword-first to find... another door. And another. He slams the third door open with a sigh. There’s a shriek.

“Tommy?!” 

Tommy is curled up on the floor in a thin stone hallway, face in his knees, sobbing violently. When he hears Techno, he curls tighter and starts mumbling some semi-coherent apologies between wracking sobs. 

It’s Tommy.

It’s his brother. His young and innocent brother, curled up and crying on the floor.

Technoblade had never been big on family, treating them the same way he would anybody else, but this? His little brother, sobbing on his floor? 

He drops his sword and falls to his knees next to his brother.

“Tommy, you okay, buddy?”  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. ‘M sorry, Please-“  
“Tommy, come on, it’s alright, come here-“

Techno tries to pull Tommy to his feet, to get him out of the tiny hallway, but Tommy screeches again when he pulls. 

“Tommy, please, come on-“  
“NO! IM SORRY!”  
“Goddammit.”

With no other options, Techno gets up, climbs back up to his chest room, grabs a potion he knows fairly well, and rushes back down to his weeping brother.

Tommy had watched his brother climb the ladder, and he immediately averts his eyes when he reappears. Techno tries one last time,

“Tommy, come here, let’s go upstairs and calm down.”

But it’s too late, Tommy has started up crying and apologizing again, louder than ever. Techno, impatient as always, throws his trusty (and not very well known) splash sleeping potion. Within a few seconds, the boy is out cold. Technoblade sighs and carries his brother upstairs.

What happened to this kid? 

~~~~~~~~

Tommy wakes up in a frenzy. He’d had a terrible nightmare, he’s still drowsy, and as he’s looking around, he realizes that he doesn’t recognize his surroundings hardly at all. Where is he? Dream will be so upset with him-

Techno rushes into the house at the sound of his brother’s screams. He must’ve woken up while Techno was outside patching creeper holes. He yanks the door open to see his brother thrashing on the bed in a panic, shouting something about-

Something about Dream? 

He grabs the boy by the shoulders forcefully and pushes him back down onto the bed. Tommy screams. Techno grabs his by the jaw as gently as he can- which isn’t really all that gently, but he’s trying- forcing his brother to look him in the eyes. 

“Tommy. Look at me.”  
Frightened eyes meet calm and decisive ones.  
“I need you to calm down.”  
Tommy struggles to slow his breathing as much as he can, hoping to please the older man, thinking fleeting thoughts about being given food, or perhaps being allowed to keep his armor. He’s still not entirely sure where he is.  
“That’s right- breathe. In and out. You understand? Breathe with me, okay? In- that’s good- and out. Keep going. Good, that’s good. You’re doing great.”  
Still not thinking clearly, Tommy keens at the praise, putting everything else aside and focusing on breathing with Techno-

Oh, it’s Techno! It’s not even Dream. Dream isn’t here.

Where is Dream?

No, no, Tommy doesn’t want Dream. Does he? No. Right?

“Tommy. Focus. Breathing.”  
“Right- sorry, I’m trying.” He manages. 

Techno breathes a sigh of relief. The boy is fine, and what was seemingly a panic attack is starting to fade. 

The two sit together on the bed for a long while, Tommy focusing as much as he can on his breathing, Techno trying to asses the situation while keeping his brother calm, whispering occasional praise into his ear along with reminders to focus on breathing. Slowly, they relax.

After a long silence consisting of far too much thinking, Tommy finally speaks up,

“I’m sorry I broke into your house.”  
Techno looks at him like he’s crazy,  
“You’re sorry? What?!”  
“I know, I know sorry’s not enough, I’m still sorry, just do whatever you want, I deserve it, I-“  
“Tommy, I’m not going to hurt you.”  
Tommy flinches at the firmness in Techno’s voice. It was necessary to get the point across, though, and now Tommy is confused. Techno speaks again before he can even attempt to open his mouth,  
“You don’t have to be sorry. Clearly, you’re hurt. You could’ve just asked, but it’s fine, I get that you were scared. I don’t care that you snuck into my house, I want to know what happened.”  
Tommy looks at him curiously. He isn’t mad? But Tommy did something bad- he should be mad, he should punish him- he should-

Tommy shakes the questions from his mind in favor of trying to follow what his brother wants,  
“What do you mean what happened?”  
“What do you mean what do I mean? I mean why did you run away? What changed? What caused you to have to hide under my house and cry?!”  
God, could Techno stop being so loud, please? Every slightly agitated word drives up Tommy’s nerves. Techno isn’t mad at Tommy, of course, he’s angry at whatever caused him this pain.  
“Oh. You know I was exiled, right?”  
Techno nods and waits for him to continue. Tommy sighs and summarizes as best he can.  
“Long story short, I hid stuff from Dream, Dream found it and got mad, so he blew up everything and told me I wasn’t allowed to leave or go to the nether anymore, and so I almost killed myself, but then I didn’t, and I ran away, but now I’m scared and I found your house and now I’m here.”  
Techno blinks slowly, trying desperately to comprehend the wild amount of information that was just thrown at him in various layers of madness.  
“O...Kay... can you... go back and give me a bit more detail, please?”

The two walk through the whole story, quite slowly, with Techno frequently asking gentle questions about things that Tommy saw as normal that weren’t actually normal at all, and occasionally the two stopping to let Tommy calm down before picking up again. By the end, Techno was nearly vibrating with fury and Tommy’s cheeks were wet with tears, apologies sitting at the tip of his tongue. 

“I’m sor-“  
“No, I’M sorry, Tommy. I’m sorry that this happened to you at all, I’m sorry that you were alone the whole time, and I’m sorry that you don’t understand why I’m sorry yet because he’s messed you up so badly. I promise you I will make Dream pay for all the pain he’s brought you.”  
“But Dream’s my friend-“  
“No, Tommy. He’s not. You’re not going to see him anymore.”  
Tommy looks up at his brother with the biggest, saddest, most confused, puppy eyes anyone has ever seen, and Techno wants to scream. How DARE Dream to this to Tommy? Frankly, how dare _anybody_ do this to _anybody else?_

“I’m going to help you, Tommy.”  
Techno replaces a hand on the lost boy’s shoulder,  
“I promise I’m going to help you, but for now, maybe you should go back to sleep, okay? Can you do that?”  
Tommy nods as his brother lays him back down on the bed.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“For what?”  
Tommy thinks for a moment,  
“I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”  
Techno sighs- this may be the most horribly depressing thing he’s ever seen,  
“Okay. That’s okay. Goodnight, Tommy- sweet dreams.”  
“Thank you, Techno. ‘Night.”

As Tommy slowly drifts off to sleep, Technoblade thinks. Hard. By the time the boy is lightly snoring, Techno is resolute in his decision. He picks up his backup sword and trident and storms out of his house, messaging Phil as he walks.

_Blade: Who has my stuff?_

_Philza: Ranboo, I think, but he won’t for long_

_Blade: On my way to you. Be ready to fight._

_Philza: I have an ankle monitor???_

_Blade: I don’t care._

_Philza: what’s with the rush? what’s wrong?_

_Blade: Tommy. Explain later. Be ready._

_Philza: is he okay???????_

_Blade: Not really, no. I need my stuff_

_Blade: I’ve got a new target._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you want a sequel where Dream visits and Techno has to hold his tongue because he doesn’t have his stuff yet and/or a sequel where Tech has his stuff, he and Tommy run into Dream, and they take him down.


	9. Troubled Tubbo- a prequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Key
> 
> A prequel to the one where Tubbo almost drowns. Here, we see the SBI boys breaking brother Tubbo out of his captivity with Schlatt, but Tubbo is... a bit messed up. 
> 
> What is he supposed to do now? This wasn’t a part of his training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Violence, domestic abuse, PTSD, trauma, nightmares... it’s bad. It’s really bad. It’s not graphic or anything, just be careful reading this.

_  
“Tubbo, what are you doing?”  
Tubbo flinches at the harsh voice behind him as he whips his head around,  
“Schlatt! Sorry, I just-“  
*Smack!  
Tubbo recoils from the sound more than the pain- he’s used to the pain- and rubs the new red handprint on his cheek.  
“What. Are. You. Doing?”  
“Nothing, I swear! I-“  
*Smack!*  
“Please, Schlatt, I didn’t mean-“  
*Thud*  
Tubbo’s crawls backwards on the ground away from Schlatt as much as he can- it doesn’t help. He’s still close enough for a kick to his side. _

_Broken ribs? That’s fine. He’s used to it._

_“Let’s change that~ what are you SUPPOSED to be doing?”  
Tubbo thinks for a second. Dammit, what did he forget this time?  
“I was... supposed to be finishing fixing the decorations on the podium for the next speech.”  
“That’s right- good boy. Now, because you weren’t doing what you were supposed to, you get a punishment. You understand?”  
Tubbo whimpers and backs away instinctively, internally cringing the moment he realizes it. He rarely moves to escape punishments anymore. That was kicked out of him.  
“Oh, you’re not trying to escape your consequences, are you Tubbo?”  
He frantically shakes his head, hoping, pleading that Schlatt will be merciful. He knows better.  
“Come here.”  
Tubbo jumps up at the familiar command and, without even thinking, places himself in front of Schlatt, eyes down, just like he’s supposed to.  
“Good. You know, you made me do this.”  
*Smack!*  
Schlatt’s cold laughter rings through his ears, echoing across the room, amplified, seeming to just get louder and louder- coming from all angles- all directions- there’s no escape- there’s no escape from Schlatt- Tubbo knows- Tubbo’s sorry-_

“Tubbo! Hey! You awake, buddy?”  
Someone’s shaking his shoulder. He leaps up and nearly screams before choking it back- Schlatt wouldn’t like that. Tubbo backs away as much as he can on the tiny single bed and hugs himself, looking around frantically for the source of the semi-familiar voice. 

“Hey, hey- it’s ok. It’s me!”  
Tubbo looks at the voice’s owner. It’s Wilbur. What is Wilbur doing here, in a place like this?

“Wil?”  
“Hey, Tubbo. You alright?”  
This must be a trick.  
“Tubbo?”  
Maybe if he acts the way Schlatt wants him to, he won’t be punished at the end of this. Maybe Schlatt will be proud.  
“Yes. I’m absolutely fine. What are you doing here?”  
“We’re here to bust you out! Come on!”  
Tubbo looks around the room to see his whole family- Phil is looking over some sort of map, Tommy is peering out the windows, and Techno is guarding the bedroom door.

“Is this really where you sleep?”  
Tubbo turns to Tommy at the odd question, trying to figure out how Schlatt wants him to respond, eventually settling on an answer,  
“Yea, but it’s fine. This is where I wanted to sleep. I like it here.”  
Wilbur and Tommy look at him confusedly. Phil doesn’t seem convinced. 

“Come on, son. It’s alright. We’re here to help you, okay? You don’t have to pretend or anything anymore.”  
‘Bullshit,’ Tubbo thinks, ‘Schlatt’s going to be so proud of me for not falling for this.’  
“No. I don’t want your help. I want Schlatt.”  
The boys look at eachother. Techno mutters,  
“Good god, what did they do to you?”  
Tommy practically runs over to his friend,  
“Tubbo? You don’t really believe that, right? You trust us, right? We’ve seen him hurting you- everyone’s seen it, everyone knows. Come on, come home with us- please?”  
Tommy reaches out a hand and Tubbo noticeably flinches. He pulls the hand back and the two stare at one another for a moment, neither able to say anything.

“They’re searching around, boys. We don’t have much time left.”  
Techno says from the door,  
“I thought we would have heard the alarm?”  
“Apparently not- they’re DEFINITELY searching.”  
Techno crouches further behind the door, looking sympathetically at Tubbo for a bit before turning to Phil and Wilbur,  
“Hurry, if you can.”

Phil kneels in front of Tubbo on the bed. Tubbo tries to back up further into the wall. Slowly and cautiously, Phil reaches out- Tubbo flinches again- and gently grabs Tubbo’s hand.  
“Listen to me. We aren’t going to hurt you, okay? I don’t know what Schlatt did to you, but he doesn’t have control of you anymore. You don’t have to listen to him,”Phil hesitates for a moment,  
“You have to listen to _me._ Do you understand? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise that, but I need you to listen to me. You have to come with us. Right now. Understand?”  
Everyone freezes. Tubbo is quite confused- that doesn’t sound like something Schlatt would have somebody say. Is this real? Is this a good thing? Are they... actually not going to hurt him?  
“Tubbo. Do you understand me?”  
Either way, it doesn’t seem like Tubbo had a choice- Phil is getting firmer every time he talks, and the last thing he wants is for his father to be mad at him, too. Quietly, Tubbo nods. 

Phil smiles and pulls slightly at the hand that he’s holding, leading Tubbo to stand before putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him carefully out of the small, shabby bedroom. The group sneaks through the halls, Wilbur taking care of the back, Techno taking care of the front, and Phil taking care of Tubbo. 

They’re almost out before they found a corner and run into exactly who they didn’t want to see.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Tubbo freezes.  
Phil’s arm tightens around him.  
Techno raises his sword and stands in front of the group defensively, nearly growling.  
A sick laugh echoes through the air.

“Tubbo, sweetheart~”  
“Don’t talk to him.”  
Technoblade has no problem interrupting JSchlatt. Techno has no problem interrupting anyone, no matter who it is. Schlatt fake gasps, but abides, turning his attention momentarily to Techno.  
“What, are you going to stop me? I have an army. You’re more surrounded than you think.”  
Tubbo looks around nervously- Schlatt’s right, there are quite a few guards scattered around and plenty of corners and doors where more could be hiding, waiting to pop out.  
Techno isn’t fazed, but Tubbo obviously is, which Schlatt takes immediate advantage of,  
“But you don’t have to worry about that, as long as you give back my precious Tubbo.”  
The immediate response from Wilbur is,  
“YOUR Tubbo?”  
But all Tubbo heard was ‘precious,’ and it made his heart flutter. Schlatt values him, really? He’s valuable! He almost leans forward with how much part of him wants to be in Schlatt’s arms right now. Schlatt can tell. He looks directly at Tubbo,  
“Come on, little buddy. You’re doing so well, I can already tell-“  
Others begin talking over him, shouting at him to stop, but he doesn’t falter- he continues talking directly to his brainwashed boy, feeding him lies and poison, dragging him back into the miserable life that he’s so close to escaping-  
“These people? They’re lying. This life they’re promising you? One where you’re never hurt, never sad-“  
“All we’re promising is that he’ll be LOVED.”  
“-it’s not real, Tubbo. Not like your life with me. I know you resisted them, and you did so good with it too! You did, didn’t you?”  
Tubbo’s been asked a question. He has to answer. That’s just how it is.  
“I did! I told them no, that I didn’t want to go, but they made me. I tried to tell them no, Schlatt, I swear-“  
Everyone stops talking and stares at the interaction. Why is Tubbo even speaking to him?  
“Good boy. I know you did. I’m so, so proud of you.”  
Tubbo’s heart keens at the praise. He needs it. It feels so good compared to the biting pain.  
“I need you to resist again, okay? I need you to come to me. Come here.”  
Tubbo twitches involuntarily, moving to step forward, but Phil holds him firmly. 

That’s a command. He _has_ to follow it. He has to do as he’s told- and he can, he knows that command, he knows what he’s supposed to do, and he’s so close- it would be so easy-

“Stay strong, son. It’s alright.”  
Tubbo tenses his muscles. This is definitely not alright. Surprisingly, though, he stays still.

“Tubbo? Did you hear me? I said: Come. Here.”  
Tubbo whimpers in Phil’s hold, pulling slightly, but not enough to escape Phil’s grip. He doesn’t want to escape. He wants to go home.

Does what he wants actually matter?  
It shouldn’t, right? But he stays anyways.

“Tubbo. You’re my good boy, right? I’m going to ask you one last time. Come here, now.”

Tubbo looks at Phil, who looks him dead in the eyes and- reluctantly- offers the only thing that can keep him in place,  
“Tubbo? Stay.”  
Another command.

Tubbo stays. 

Phil hates that he did that, and he hates what it will probably do to his son, but they’ll deal with that later. Right now, they have to keep him away from his abuser.

“Wow. I’m impressed, boys; you’ve re-broken him. I guess this will have to be a fight, then.”  
“Then it’s a fight, jackass.”  
“We’re going to make you regret everything.”

The fight is fairly short and Tubbo only catches bits and pieces. For instance, the fact that there weren’t actually more guards around the corners, so the sparse crew they saw was all they had to deal with. He also notices that Schlatt escapes up the stairs, but doesn’t say anything later when his brothers ask one another where the president went. Following Phil’s gentle guide, Tubbo and the group makes it out of L’manburg and into the forest on the path to their home in Pogtopia. Phil never lets go of his hand. Eventually, they slow down and stop for a moment.

“Tubbo, are you alright?”  
Wilbur looks at him concernedly. Everyone else slows to a stop as well, looking to him with varying levels of pity.  
Tubbo doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how. He knows what response Schlatt would want him to give, but he feels like these people- they are his family, after all- would appreciate the truth, and Tubbo knows more than ever that he’s not alright. He’s not even close.  
“Tubbo-“  
Wilbur reaches out to him again and Tubbo flinches harder than the last time, fully looking away. Wilbur drops his hand and retreats. Phil rubs his back comfortingly and gently,  
“Tubs, you know we aren’t going to hurt you, right? You remember I told you that?”  
He nods instinctively, as he would if Schlatt had asked a question. He’s taking orders from Phil now, he supposes, so he’d better wise up and pay attention to what Phil wants from him. So far, loyalty and affection are yeses, flinching is a no.

“Good. Thank you. We love you, Tubbo.”  
He isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He also isn’t sure that he believes it.  
He used to believe it.  
Tubbo starts to cry.  
He looks down, trying to hide the tears that he knows Schlatt would have him beat for, but Phil puts a hand on his back in comfort and he just starts _sobbing._ with you. Do you understand that? That’s very important.”  
The boy nods and slowly, cautiously, as if with a frightened baby deer, Phil takes him into a hug. Tubbo sobs onto his jacket, part of him terrified that he no longer knows the rules and he might upset someone, part of him grateful, knowing that he’s finally safe, he’s loved, and he’ll be okay now. The boys crowd around and join the hug, all of them crying- even Techno, though he later denies it- and all of them desperately hoping that they can help their Tubbo. 

Right now, all Phil wants is for him to know he’s loved.

Tubbo, no matter how broken, is loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might write more of these. We’ll see. I love hurt/comfort SO MUCH.


	10. Fixing Tubbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to the prequel to the... uh... well it’s a continuation of the Traumatized Tubbo saga. Y’all seem to really like this, so I’ll keep on keepin on with this series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning; Domestic violence, abuse, low self esteem, panic attacks, etc etc

_“Oh Tubbo~”  
Tubbo leaps out of the pathetic little bed in his pathetic little bedroom and races towards the voice calling in the hallway. He has to come whenever Schlatt calls his name, which he’s been doing every morning, as part of his training. Tubbo adjusts the leather on his neck, the metal prongs digging painfully into his skin._

_“I’m here- OW! Sorry- uh-“  
He takes a moment to collect himself after the shock- this electric collar may be the most painful thing he’s ever experienced.  
“Try again, Tubbo.”  
He straightens his posture,  
“Yes, mister Schlatt?”_

_Schlatt smiles sickly,  
“Good boy. Now, let’s get going, shall we?”  
“Yes, sir.” _

“Hey, Tubbo. You awake?”  
Tubbo shrieks as he shoots awake, sitting up and scooting away on the bed. His hands instinctively go straight to his neck- no collar, he’s fine. Looking around the room, he comes eye-to-eye with Tommy, who woke him up, sitting beside the bed. He also sees Phil behind, watching with a quiet concern. Tubbo just stares for a moment.

“Sorry, mate. You alright?”  
He looks back at Tommy. How is he expected to respond to that?  
“Fine, thank you. Just a bit startled.”

It’s been four days since Tubbo’s family saved him from Schlatt- he is starting to realize that ‘saved’ is, in fact, the right term- and he’s still adjusting, trying to figure out how he’s supposed to act. His main concern is that he hasn’t been punished for anything yet, so he doesn’t know what to expect when he does something wrong. He mostly just hopes Phil is more merciful with him than Schlatt was, and it seems like he will be.

“That’s alright, Tubbo. Would you like to get up and come get some breakfast with us, or would you prefer if we brought you something to eat alone?”  
Tubbo looks at Phil and considers his question for a moment- he’s struck by a nervous silence because he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond, but he’s sure he should’ve answered by now, and he’s getting more nervous by the moment, and-  
“Oh please come and join us, Tubbo! I miss hanging out with you!”  
Tommy finally offers a correct response. Tubbo jumps on it immediately,  
“I’ll come and join you guys, thanks.”  
Tommy smiles widely. Phil just looks more concerned.  
“Come on, then! Wilbur’s making pancakes- hopefully they’re better than the last time! Ha!”  
And Tommy bounds out of the room, shouting, “Tubbo wants to join us for breakfast!”

Tubbo politely stands and starts walking to join them, but Phil puts a hand on his shoulder. He stops, trying desperately not to start shaking, and looks at his father.  
“Tubbo- you understand that when we ask something, there’s not always a right or wrong answer, right? We genuinely want to know what you think, what you want. You understand?”  
Tubbo isn’t sure that he does, but he responds anyways,  
“Yes sir.”  
Then pauses- Phil looks upset again. Oh dammit, he looked upset the last time he said ‘sir’ too! Tubbo should have remembered.  
“Sorry, I know you don’t like me being formal like that- I just don’t know what to call you, really?”  
Phil gently brushes a hair out of his face,  
“It’s alright, Tubbo. Call me whatever makes you the most comfortable. Now- do you actually want to join us for breakfast, or would you rather be alone?”

Tubbo thinks for a second. He thought he knew the right answer, but now Phil is asking again, and he’s less sure. He tries to think about what Phil wants him to say, but all he can come up with is that Phil wants him to say what he actually wants.

What does he want, anyways? He hadn’t considered that. Being with others opens the possibility of him making a mistake, subsequently being punished, but... he feels more nauseous when he’s alone. Tubbo looks back up at Phil.

“I think I’d like to eat with you guys, if that’s okay?”

This time, Phil genuinely smiles.  
“Thank you. Now, let’s go.”

Holding hands, the two walk downstairs to the rest of the family. They enter the breakfast room just as Wilbur is coming back from the kitchen with two massive stacks of blueberry pancakes and a pot of syrup. Wilbur grins when he sees Tubbo.

“Ayyyy, look who’s here!”  
He sets the pancakes down on the table.  
“Hope you boys like the pancakes- made with love, and pancake ingredients.”  
“Smells better than the last time.”  
“That’s ‘cause I didn’t burn the shit out of ‘em.”  
“Quit blabbering and give me pancakes!”

Tubbo sits in the empty seat between Phil and Technoblade and, following as closely to what everyone else is doing as he can, stabs a pancake off the stack for himself. Just one- he doesn’t need much food anyways. 

The group chats cheerfully throughout the meal. Even Tubbo contributes, although he only speaks when spoken to. He notices that everyone’s been grabbing more from the stack periodically, and he finds his stomach growling hungrily at the thought of another pancake. God, he really wants another one. But he shouldn’t. Right?

Well, the food isn’t particularly limited- in fact, there are far too many pancakes for the amount of people at the table. And Phil _was_ just saying they wanted to hear what Tubbo wanted. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? Maybe? Maybe Phil would even be proud of him for speaking up. Maybe Tubbo is just rationalizing his hungry decision. Either way, before he can stop himself, Tubbo speaks up very quietly, looking to Phil,

“Am I allowed to have another?”  
Everyone sort of quiets down and looks at him. He squirms uncomfortably,  
“Sorry. Thought I’d ask.”  
But to his surprise, Phil smiles warmly,  
“Yes, Tubbo, you may have as many as you’d like, and I’m very proud of you for speaking up!”  
Tubbo nearly cries at the praise. He was right! He did it right. He excitedly stabs another pancake- just the one, he doesn’t want to be greedy- and shoves a bite in his mouth.  
“‘Fank you” He says through his food.

Phil could cry just looking at Tubbo’s genuine expression- the love and happiness in his eyes at the praise, the childlike excitement at something so simple as a second mid-quality pancake... they’re making progress. He can’t help but giggle at the thin boy.  
“Anything for you, Tubbo.”

Technoblade watches the boy next to him devour the pancake. With a smirk, Techno shoves another pancake onto the boy’s plate. Tubbo looks up at him with bright, childlike eyes, full of confusion and gratitude in equal measure. 

“I think I speak for all of us when I say I’m just happy to see you eating more.”  
“Th...thanks.”

~~~~~~~

That night, Tubbo sits in bed, trying to fall asleep. He can’t. He’s too afraid. Every night since he’s come home, he’s had another nightmare, another memory of Schlatt’s abuse. No, sleeping isn’t an option.

Quietly and hesitantly, Tubbo rolls out of bed. Maybe some water would calm him down. He creeps down the stairs only to find-

“Hello.”  
Technoblade looks up from the couch, hand in a bag of chips. Tubbo freezes.  
“Sorry- uh- I’ll just-“  
“It’s fine, Tubbo. You’re allowed to be up at night, y’know.”  
Tubbo hesitates before continuing- quite slowly- down the stairs,  
“But Phil told me to go to sleep.”  
Techno shrugs slightly, quirking up the edge of his mouth,  
“That wasn’t really supposed to be... an order, or anything, Tubbo. More of a recommendation.”  
“Oh.”

Tubbo fills himself a glass of water, inwardly questioning whether he’s allowed to have it or not, but deciding that Techno would stop him if he wasn’t.  
“Well, how do I tell when he’s giving me an order and when he’s not?”  
Techno looks at him with confusion and concern,  
“He doesn’t really give orders. We can do whatever we want, we just listen to what he says most of the time cause we trust him.”  
“Oh. Sorry.”  
Tubbo sits down uncertainly on the living room chair with his water, interested in Techno’s insight, but still not quite believing he’s allowed to be here.

“You don’t need to be sorry for asking a question.”  
“Right, sor-“  
The apology is cut off with slight laughter from Techno,  
“Really, Tubbo. You haven’t done anything wrong; you don’t need to apologize every time you talk.”  
“Oh. Sor- uh, well...”  
Tubbo smiles sheepishly at his brother, who just laughs back and smiles in return.  
“So what happens when I _do_ do something wrong?”  
“I guess we’ll just let you know.”  
“And?”  
Techno looks at him curiously,  
“And what? That’s it, we’ll just tell you so you can fix it.”  
There’s a pause while Tubbo looks at him, not understanding but not wanting to ask again for fear of agitating the man. After a moment, Techno clues in,  
“We’re not going to hurt you, Tubbo. We told you that, didn’t we?”  
“I know, sorry, I just...”  
Another pause,

“You didn’t believe us.”

Tubbo flinches at the words. Yea, he’s sure he’s upset the brother now. Techno notices and scrambles to fix it,  
“I’m not upset with you, Tubbo- it’s not your fault. You’ve just been hurt so bad you don’t get that not everybody’s going to hurt you. It’s alright, it’ll sink in eventually.”  
The boy looks up at him. Techno notices that he’s shaking.

“I’m not mad.”  
“Not mad?”  
“No, not mad. I promise.”  
“...’m sorry.”  
“It’s alright. You’re fine.”

“You okay now, buddy?”  
“Yea, yea, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Techno nods in acknowledgement and leans back on the couch, having some more chips. Tubbo sips on the water to calm down. 

“So. Can’t sleep?”  
Techno shoves another handful of chips in his mouth with the casual question. It’s a question, so Tubbo had to answer,  
“Not a wink.”  
“Nightmares?”  
Tubbo nods. They make eye contact; there’s a mutual understanding.  
“I get them too, sometimes. ‘S why I’m here. Sucks, doesn’t it?”  
“Heh. Yea. That’s for sure.”

“Hello? Who’s awake down here?”

Tubbo’s startled into dropping his water- it’s Phil- Tubbo’s supposed to be asleep!

Immediately, everything Techno and Phil said about not hurting him or not commanding him clears out of his mind, replaced with blind panic. He’s out of bed- and now he’s spilled his water, too! He looks up at Phil, already shaking.

“Sorry- I didn’t mean to- I needed water- couldn’t sleep- nightmares- sorry- should’ve stayed-“  
“Geez, Tubbo, it’s alright, you-“  
“It’s fine, Techno, I’ve got him. Hey, Tubbo.”

By this point, Tubbo has stood up and is backing away, shaking horribly, vision blurry with tears, apologizing incoherently over and over again. Phil approaches, stopping a couple of feet in front of him and staying as calm as possible.

“Tubbo, hey, can you hear me, buddy? I’m not mad, okay? I promise you, I’m not mad. I need you to calm down for a second please, and I need you to look at me. Can you do that for me?”

Tubbo does his best to follow what he’s told, still mumbling and shaking, wiping as much of the wetness from his eyes as he can and looking straight forward at Phil, even through tears. Phil smiles gently.

“Hey. There we go- thank you. Now, I’m not mad, alright? I said that, but look- do I look mad? Do I look like I’m mad at all?”  
Tubbo takes a moment to consider. Well, he really doesn’t look mad. If anything, he looks worried. Tubbo slowly shakes his head.

“Okay. That’s good. I’m not upset with you, Tubbo. Alright? So you can relax. You haven’t done anything wrong.”  
“...no?”  
“No, son. You’re just fine.”  
“You’re not mad?”  
“Not mad at all.”  
“Sorry I didn’t listen.”  
“It’s okay, you can do whatever you want, Tubbo, really.”  
“And ‘m sorry I spilled the water.”  
“It was an accident, son. Really, I’m not upset at all.”

Tubbo is silent. He looks down at his feet sheepishly. Phil, with a whispered “Oh, Tubbo” sweeps him up into a gentle hug. The boy sobs into Phil’s shoulder. 

“I’m so proud of you, Tubbo. You did great today.”

Phil looks over his shoulder at Techno questioningly. Techno shrugs and offers as much of a story as he can,  
“He couldn’t sleep. Nightmares. Came down to get some water,”  
Techno looks a bit guilty or sheepish,  
“We were just having a conversation. I didn’t know he’d get this upset- he really seemed to think you had ordered him to bed or something, and that he was breaking the rules.” 

Phil frowns. Tubbo can’t seem to stop taking everything as an order. It’s one of the more frightening aspects of his recovery process. It almost seems like Tubbo just wasn’t allowed to have free thought when we was with Schlatt, or do anything that he wanted, or eat enough, or really anything. 

Phil loosens his hold on Tubbo enough to pull back and look him in the eyes. The boy’s face is red and splotchy, still wet with tears, and he’s still slightly shaking. 

“Nightmares?”  
Tubbo nods, not even realizing that he skips the scripted verbal question response for the first time.  
“Would you like to come sleep in bed with me? Would that help?”  
Even though he doesn’t want to be a bother, Tubbo remembers what Phil told him that morning about saying what he wanted, takes a deep breath and responds,  
“Yea. That would help a lot.”  
The warm, calming smile returns,  
“No problem, Tubbo. I’m so very proud of you. Let’s go upstairs, yea? See if we can get some sleep?”  
Still uncertain, and thinking that he’s probably still too frightened of the nightmares to sleep, Tubbo nods and allows Phil to lead him up the stairs. 

While Phil settles Tubbo in bed with him, Techno pops in with a cup.

“Thought you might like a new glass of water, since you- well, since the last one got spilled.”  
Guiltily, Tubbo accepts it with mumbled thanks. Phil mouths another ‘Thank you’ to Techno as he winks and leaves with a smirk and a final, “G’night guys.”  
“‘Night, Techno!” Tubbo smiles at his brother before looking back up to his dad. Phil carefully kisses his forehead.

“Goodnight, Tubbo.”  
“Goodnight... Dad.”

“I love you.”

For the first time in a while, Tubbo actually thinks he might believe him. 

More than that, maybe he even deserves it.


	11. Drunk Fundy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short little bit inspired by Ranboo’s Christmas Eve stream, starring Drunk Fundy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings, except heavy drinking I guess?

Ranboo was just minding his own business- he doesn’t even really remember what he was doing- when Tubbo stumbled in, half-carrying Fundy. 

“You!”  
Ranboo rushes over to Tubbo to help him carry the fox hybrid- Tubbo’s hair is disheveled and he looks at Ranboo with wild eyes before shoving the fox off of himself and entirely onto Ranboo. Fundy giggles at the movement and starts playing with Ranboo‘s crown.

“Here. He’s yours now.”  
“What?! No, I’m busy, you can’t just-“  
“I’M dealing with WILBUR, so YOU get to deal with THIS.”

Ranboo shifts the man in his arms for a better view of Tubbo, who’s clearly exhausted. Fundy smells overwhelmingly of Vodka.

“They were drinking?”  
Tubbo laughs, loud, short, and spiteful.  
“Yea, you could say that. Have fun!” 

Before Ranboo can argue any further, Tubbo limps away. Deciding to have mercy on the poor child, Ranboo sighs and walks Fundy home with him. Can’t be that bad? Right?

“Heeeey, Ranboo.”  
“Yea, buddy, what’s up?”  
“I have a question.”  
“Go ahead.”  
“Let’s say I have... twenty money.”  
“O...Kay...”  
“If I... clone it. Can I use that?”  
“Well, yea, if you exactly clone it, I guess you then have... forty money?”  
“Oh, I’m gonna be rich!”  
“No- Fundy, that’s called counterfeit, you can’t-“  
“But you said!”

Over the course of the day, Ranboo tries desperately to be productive, but it’s simply impossible with Fundy clinging onto him, and he’s too busy answering Fundy’s odd questions to think very hard about anything else anyways.

“If I have two beefs, and they’re the same flavor, but someone one of them’s a different shape, are they they same flavor?”

“How long do laws last?”  
“Well, copyright laws expire after-“  
“How long ago was the no-money-duplicating law made?”  
“Fundy, that’s not how it works.”

“Why are some apples red and some green?”  
“Well, they’ve just got... different chemicals, I guess.”  
“And even those, like... some green apples taste different than others, y’know?”  
“Yup. Again, just slightly different chemicals.”  
“So are there theoretically infinite apple tastes?”  
“I... guess so, yea.”  
“I bet there’s an apple that tastes like chocolate.”

And by the end, though he’s terribly exhausted and confused, Ranboo can’t deny that he’s had a good time. 

“Come on, Fundy, let’s go to bed, okay?”  
“Okkaaaaaaay.”  
“Here, I got you some water.”  
“Mm. M’kay.”  
“Alright. Good night, Fundy.”  
“G’niiiiight!!!!”

Ranboo giggles as he tucks the man-baby into bed. Fundy drinks the water, spilling more of it over himself and the pillow than he drinks, but that’s fine. In the morning, he’ll need a shower, and he’ll have one hell of a headache, but for now? Ranboo doesn’t mind taking care of the little one, just for a while. Heck, it might even stave off a bit of his own loneliness.

“mmmmmmmmmmurry christmas.”  
“Merry Christmas, Fundy.”

~~~~~~~

(Extra)

“WHERE THE FUCK AM I?!”

Ranboo is woken up by yelling from the next room over. He’s concerned for a second- and then he remembers the previous night. He laughs.

“WHATS SO GODDAMN FUNNY”

He’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe. Ranboo actually, genuinely falls off the bed because he can’t stop laughing. 

Fundy stumbles into the room, nearly falling over, propped up on the doorframe and covering his eyes almost completely. His fur is tangled and sticking up all over the place, which is nothing compared to the grimace he sends Ranboo on the floor.

“WHAT! WHAT IS IT!”

Ranboo laughs even harder at the sight, trying to stand back up and failing, which only makes him laugh harder. 

“I- hAH- I’m sorry, Fundy- hehe- I just- oh god”   
“Just get me an Advil, man.”  
“Okay, alright- hehe- I’ll be right there.”  
“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao I know it’s short and dumb and not very thought out but it’s cute


	12. Tubbo’s Triggers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the Traumatized Tubbo saga. In this episode, something happens that triggers a massive panic attack for Tubbo in the early morning, and we all have to chip in to help him through it- but he’s improving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same trigger warnings as the rest of these, with the whole domestic violence/abuse/low self esteem thing. This one has an actual bleeding injury.

It’s Monday.

Tubbo is supposed to make breakfast on Mondays.

Tubbo knows that he’s not with Schlatt, that he’s home, that his family doesn’t expect him to make them breakfast on Mondays.

Tubbo shuts his eyes, tries to go back to sleep

_Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick_

Tubbo rolls out of bed with a sigh.

It’s time to make breakfast. 

Simple and easy, he decides. Eggs, or something from a box mix, or- ah, there- he pulls out a box of muffin mix. Perfect. 

It’s 5:00 in the morning. 

This is fine, he decides. Totally normal. 

Tubbo starts collecting ingredients- mix, two eggs, milk, butter- and various bowls and measuring cups. He dumps in the powder and cracks the two eggs, leaves the butter out to soften, pours the milk- 1/3 cup, it said- here we go-

“Tubbo? What are you-“

Tubbo jumps and drops the glass measuring cup. It shatters all over the floor.

_  
The bottle shatters across the floor. He’s really having trouble keeping hold on things during the shocks- he needs to get better at that. Tubbo needs to be better._

_“What the fuck, Tubbo?”  
“I’m sorry, Mister Schlatt! I, uh-“  
Another shock. A higher level. Pain courses through his body- he stumbles backwards, stepping on glass on his way. He screams.  
“Well, what are you waiting for?! Clean it up!”  
“Right- sorry, Schlatt- is there a broom? Or-“  
Another shock on the high level. Tubbo clutches his neck- the collar- in pain. _

_“Just pick it up with your hands! Who cares, anyways?”_

_Without question, Tubbo sinks onto his knees on the glass and starts collecting it, stabbing himself quite a few times- it’s hard to see where the glass is through his tears. Schlatt chuckles at his struggle._

_“Maybe next time, you’ll be more careful.”  
_

  


“Shit, Tubbo, don’t move, let me get some shoes on-“

But Tubbo can’t hear anymore.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I swear, I’ll clean it up- just don’t- please- Mister Schlatt, please!”

He starts backing away, stepping on a piece of glass on his way and startling himself. 

Hearing crunching and fearing for his life, Tubbo starts to sink down to pick up the glass. Someone grabs under his arms and yanks him back up- he shrieks again.

“Tubbo, look at me.”  
The frightened boy finds himself eye to eye with Phil. He whimpers.  
“Don’t move. Understand?”  
He nods. Phil nods back, petting his hair for a moment before pulling away.

Phil feels awful- he’s probably just impeded some progress by giving Tubbo what he knew the boy would interpret as an order, but it was the only way to keep him from getting hurt! He looked like he was ready to start grabbing glass by the fistful, and Phil couldn’t exactly just let him do that, could he? 

“Dad? What’s going on?”  
Wilbur comes down the stairs. Techno is already standing at the bottom- apparently, he came down first and has been staying out of the way. Tommy peeks from around a corner at the top. Phil sighs.

“It’s alright now, I think. Tubbo dropped something glass and he’s having a bit of a panic. Can one of you help me come clean this up so I can move Tubbo?”

Wordlessly, Techno steps up, already putting his boots on.  
“Thank you.”  
Phil then turns back to Tubbo.

“Hey, bud, you alright?”  
Tubbo doesn’t know what that means right now, and can only respond with a babbled apology. Phil shushes him gently.  
“Okay, that’s fine. I’m gonna carry you for a sec, alright? So that I can get you out of here without you stepping on any more glass-“  
Tubbo hears nothing after that, only comprehending that stepping on glass is bad and he did it. He doesn’t even feel the pain anymore- he barely registered it in the first place. He whimpers and shrinks away from Phil as the man tries to grab him. 

Phil pulls back, concerned. The boy clearly can’t understand what he’s saying and is simply frightened out of his mind. He says one more time, slowly,  
“Tubbo, I’m going to pick you up now, okay? It’s safer.”  
Tubbo takes it as an order: allow boss to pick you up. He stays as still and compliant as he can, though he’s shaking still, as Phil picks him up and carries him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Putting Tubbo down, Phil speaks again,  
“Okay, buddy, can you sit down on the couch for me so we can deal with that cut? I think you might have glass stuck in your foot.”  
All Tubbo hears is ‘Sit down so I can punish you for doing something I didn’t want.’  
Tubbo just stares at him, uncertain of what to do. Phil places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, son. You didn’t mean to. You just have to be more careful next time, okay?”

 _”Maybe next time, you’ll be more careful.”_

Tubbo doesn’t want to be punished. He backs up, nearly tripping over himself, and hides behind a very confused Wilbur.

Phil’s heart absolutely shatters. 

Tubbo can’t stop shaking, sobs wracking his body. Mumbled apologies that nobody can understand fly from his mouth. His eyes are tightly shut.

Phil takes a deep breath- in, and out- and turns to Wilbur.  
“Can you sit him down and check how bad his foot is, please.”  
“Got it.”  
With sympathy covering their faces, Wilbur and Tommy gently start guiding Tubbo toward the couch.

“Come on, Tubs. Let’s sit down, yea? So we can take a look at your injury, make sure you’re alright?”  
“Yea, c’mon Tubbo. I’ll sit with you, if you’d like.”

Phil backs up out of Tubbo’s sight line as much as he can, gritting his teeth in order to hold himself together. Tubbo hardly even opens his eyes as the two boys lead him to sit down and start checking him over. He’s perfectly compliant. Malleable. As if he isn’t capable of exercising free will at all. Phil turns away and leans on the kitchen doorframe, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

His son. _His son._

“You can come in here, if you want. Y’know. Cry a little bit.”  
Phil looks up at Technoblade, smiling kindly at him from across the room, leaning on the broomstick. The glass appears to be cleaned up, although there’s still a bit of blood on the floor from when Tubbo stepped on a shard.  
“I’m not crying.”  
“You kind of are.”  
“I’m fine.”  
“I mean, I can’t really blame you, y’know? Your young, traumatized child just had a massive panic attack that ended in him hiding from you. I’d say you’re allowed to cry at that.”  
Phil chuckles at the sentiment and steps into the kitchen, standing as far in the corner as he can fit.  
“Thank you, Techno.”  
“Gosh. Don’t sound so surprised. There’s nothing wrong with crying, Dad.”  
A pause.  
“You _do_ know we all support you, right? No matter what?”  
They make eye contact as Phil feels a tear running down his cheek.  
“That actually means more to me than you may ever know.”

“Alright, just keep your foot nice and still for me, okay? Stable as you can- there we go, perfect, good job- and...”  
Tubbo whines as Wilbur pulls the piece of glass out of his foot. Wil sticks his tongue out at Tommy and drops the piece in Tommy’s cup.  
“Bro! Why!”  
“Hehe! Cause it was funny.”  
“No, it was stupid.”  
“Well, I had to put the thing somewhere, didn’t I?”  
“Shut up, Wil-bur.”  
Wilbur looks back up at Tubbo,  
“You’re doing a great job, Tubbo. Just a bit longer while I get all the blood up and wrap it, okay? Alri- Tommy can you get him to slow down his breathing? I’m starting to get worried.”  
“Oh, yea, sure, uh...”

With one arm securely around his frightened and hyperventilating brother, Tommy starts up talking, if for no other reason than to distract the boy.  
“Hey, Tubbo, let’s breathe together, yea? Breathe at the same time with me. It’s gonna be cool. You ready?”  
Wilbur giggles at the silly idea,  
“He’s right, Tubbo. It’s gonna be so cool.”

Tubbo nods, still shaking a bit, and does his best to focus on the task.  
“Ready? In-“  
Tommy takes an obnoxiously exaggerated breath in,  
“-out”  
Tommy moves his whole body with the exhale, causing Wilbur and, more importantly, Tubbo, to giggle. Encouraged, Tommy continues,  
“In-“  
He takes the stupidest breath he’s ever taken. Tubbo follows suit. He may be semi-dissociated, but he likes this game.  
“-out.”  
The boys exhale into a fit of giggles. 

  


“There! All done!”  
Wilbur sits back and Tubbo looks down at his foot. The blood is all cleared up and his foot is nicely wrapped across the middle.  
“Already?” Tubbo questions softly.  
“Yup! I’m just cool like that.”  
“Wow! Thank you, Wilbur.”  
Wilbur stands up and, more gently and carefully than he ever has in his life, ruffles Tubbo’s hair,  
“Anything for you, Tubs.”  
Tubbo leans up into the touch like a kitten, heart warming at the love and praise. Tommy notices and adds,  
“Of course, Tubbo! We love you!”

The boy, suddenly seeming very small, looks between his two brothers and asks quietly, barely able to be heard,  
“Can I have hugs?”  
He’s immediately pulled into a warm hug from both sides, and he absolutely melts into it. Fresh tears fall from his eyes, but this time, for a different reason. The three stay like that for a good long time. 

When they eventually do pull away, Tubbo’s first thought is Phil. Oh gosh, did he really act like that towards his dad? He probably broke the man’s heart. Immediately, he starts feeling guilty.

“Tubbo? What’s wrong?”  
“Dad- is he okay?”  
“Oh, ‘m sure he’s fine. He understands, Tubbo. It’s not your fault.”  
“Still, I feel bad for acting like that... I was just so scared”  
Tommy’s probably right, he knows, but it doesn’t seem to make Tubbo feel any better. Wilbur cards his fingers through the boy’s hair.  
“We could go see, if you’d like?”  
Tubbo looks up at him with that wide-eyed child look that they’ve all grown to love over the past few days.  
“Can we?”  
“Sure! C’mon, I think he’s in the kitchen.”

The three musketeers walk to the kitchen- Wilbur leading, Tommy bouncing behind, and Tubbo nervously waddling in-between. Wilbur knocks on the doorframe to the kitchen and sticks his head in,

“Hey,”  
Phil and Techno both turn from their quiet conversation to look at him. Phil isn’t actively crying, but Wilbur knows him well enough to recognize that he probably was earlier. He smiles,  
“Is it alright if Tubbo pops in? He’s alright now, and he’s worried about you.”  
Wilbur gives Phil more information through his looks than anything else, along with the fact that he bothered to ask permission. Phil smiles,  
“Absolutely! I’m always happy to talk to Tubbo, no matter what.” He says particularly expressively. Wil grins at him, then turns around, knowing Tubbo will need some encouragement.

“Come on, then, it’s alright, he wants to see you!”  
Wilbur half-drags Tubbo in front of him and into the room. Tubbo looks down at his feet, fidgeting with his fingers, glancing quickly up at Phil every couple of seconds to see if he’s upset. 

“Hey. You feeling better?”  
Tubbo finally looks up into Phil’s eyes, searching for any sign of anger or disapproval. He can only find love.  
“Much better, thank you. I’m sorry I acted like I did-“  
“It’s okay, Tubbo, I understand. You were having a panic attack and you didn’t really know what was going on. Of course you were scared!”

It goes unsaid that Tubbo was only scared of Phil. It goes unsaid that Tubbo was specifically scared of Phil because he’s unconsciously accepted Phil as his new boss. It goes unsaid that Tubbo looked Phil in the eyes and genuinely expected to be hurt- to be hit, beaten, or shocked. It goes unsaid that he’s clearly still a bit afraid of Phil, even when he’s well and aware. 

“So, what were you doing up early in the morning anyways? Not that there’s anything wrong with that-“  
Phil backpedals, making sure not to let Tubbo think he’s done something wrong,  
“-you can be up as early or late as you’d like, really. There isn’t a schedule or anything. I’m only curious because I haven’t seen you up that early before.”

Tubbo looks back down at his hands. He knows nobody means to pressure him, but Phil likes him to be honest, and he might as well just say it,

“Schlatt had me get up early on Mondays to make him breakfast.”  
He looks up at the surprised faces. Before anyone can say anything about it, he elaborates,  
“Not that I think you guys expect that from me! I know I don’t have to, like, serve you or something, that’s ridiculous, I get it, I just... it’s a habit now, I guess? And even though I knew I didn’t actually have to, I... felt like I should? And I wanted to, ‘cause you guys deserve it, you know? You’ve been so nice to me. So I did. Well, I tried to, at least...”  
Tubbo looks back down and mumbles,  
“But I guess I can’t even do that right, either.”

Before Tubbo can react, strong arms are wrapped around him.  
“It’s alright, son. I think it’s very sweet that you wanted to make breakfast for us, and even though you didn’t quite make the whole thing, we love you very much.”  
More bodies join around Phil. For what feels like the hundredth time this morning, it seems like Tubbo is going to cry.  
“Yea, of course we do, Tubs! We love you lots and lots!”  
“Sweetest little brother ever.”  
“That’s actually the cutest thing in the entire world.”

“You guys are the best.”

After a bit of hugging, Phil has an idea- he pulls away and looks at his children’s smiling faces.

“How about we all make breakfast together?”

Tommy’s eyes light up.  
“That’s a wonderful idea!!!”  
Techno rolls his eyes. Wilbur laughs, tilting his head back,  
“Oh, we’re going to demolish this kitchen.”  
Tubbo looks at Phil sweetly and slightly pleadingly,  
“And me too?”  
“Of course, Tubbo- you’re part of the family. Together means together.”  
Tubbo grins wider than they’d seen in far too long,

“Then let’s get started!”

The tired and chaotic boys make the most spastic and most special breakfast in the world, with a little bit of everything. Muffins, eggs, bacon- why not? And the whole time, everyone is just a little extra careful with glass things, making sure not to drop anything breakable and not to make Tubbo use any glass. The ingredients, though, as well as various mixing utensils, end up all over the floor. Techno doesn’t even complain that he just finished _cleaning_ that stupid floor. They’re just one big happy family making one big happy mess.

And if, by the day after next, all the glass measuring cups- and other unnecessary glass items, pretty much everything but the large bowls- are replaced with plastic alternatives, nobody says a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I love writing these. The family is just so strong, and Tubbo is just so CUTE. If you have any ideas for another in this series, let me know.


	13. Revenge for Tommy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a sequel to the other Tommy one- the Tommy is Trying or whatever I called it- and this time, Techno has all his stuff back, and he absolutely goes after Dream. Nobody gets to hurt his little brother like that and get away with it. Nobody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... there’s blood. There’s lots of blood. I mean, it’s a fight, y’know?

Technoblade isn’t sorry for what he’s about to do.

There’s a reason that they call him _The Blade._

Drinking another invisibility potion, giving himself the maximum amount of time possible, Techno sneaks up behind his target on the prime path. 

Pause- the current target, George, stopped to turn around- Techno holds his breath-

“Hello? Anybody there?”

The moment George shrugs and continues walking, Techno’s on top of him from behind. The scream rings out, very likely alerting people who Techno was hoping wouldn’t know about this, but it’s fine. Gogy struggles to pull out his sword. Or his shield- or anything, in fact.

“Stop it- get off! Who the f-“  
“Where’s Dream.”

The force behind Techno’s steady, quiet, low voice makes George stop in his tracks and look up in terror. He whimpers, hesitating for a moment. Techno shoves down on his shoulders and digs a knee painfully into his stomach.

“Where. Is. Dream?”

It works- George relents,  
“He has a house in the mountains! I’ll take you there! Please!”

With one final threatening shove, Techno climbs off of the smaller man, allowing him to stand. George looks around, terrified that he doesn’t know where his attacker is, and can’t even be sure that it’s Technoblade whether he recognized the voice or not. Techno chuckles darkly, making the man gulp.

“Get going, then.”

“There, he’s over there.”  
Just as Techno’s invis is starting to wear off, they arrive at the secret house. The only indication that there’s a house here at all is a large gray-tinted window in the side of the mountain, which Technoblade can hardly see inside of. There isn’t even any sign of a door. Not that that’s going to stop him.

“Great. Leave.”

Simply thankful to be allowed an escape, George takes the opportunity to sprint back through the forest. Techno laughs at the sight. Can’t blame the man, though- he wasn’t even wearing much armor.

As the invisibility finally ends, Techno grabs a hefty rock nearby and throws it, as hard as he can, at the visible window. It splinters enough to create a decently sized hole- not large enough to crawl through without being cut by the glass, even if he could get up there, but large enough for an enderpearl. Techno downs a strength potion, and-

_VWOOP_

He smiles to himself. Technoblade has successfully infiltrated the house. 

Now, to find the bastard himself.

“Oh, hi Techno~”

Ah. That’ll do.

Techno whips around to face the masked devil before him.

“I wasn’t expecting any guests today. Or, well, ever, since this is my _secret_ house, but... welcome, I suppose!”  
“Yup. I, uh, stumbled across it. Nice place you got here.”

It really was a nice place- in front of the large, looming window (now complete with cracks and a gaping hole) was a decently sized living area, fixed up nicely- white carpets, several couches that looked fairly comfortable, and Techno could see what looked like a kitchen further back, along with a staircase to the side and a hallway on either wall. He figures the house extends throughout the whole mountain.

Dream confidently- arrogantly, really- struts towards Techno, armor already on and sword enchanted with god-knows-what at his side, fingers twitching next to it. He tilts his head in feigned innocence or confusion.

“But what could you possibly be doing here? Just wanted to say hello?”  
“Heh. Not exactly, Dream.”

Deciding his only chance would be to take the initiative, Techno makes a long and hard strike with his axe. It’s partially blocked, but Dream takes some damage, at least, and that makes it worth it.

“Oh-ho-ho! A little aggressive, are we? _What did I ever do to you?_ ”

Out of pure anger, Techno swings again, this time less effectively.

“Not to me, perhaps. I wouldn’t be this upset if it were just me.”  
Another swing, arrogantly blocked, only making himself angrier,  
“It could be argued that I deserve it. I probably do, really. But Tommy didn’t.”  
“Ooooh, boy, is that what this is about?”

Techno surprises the man with a round-house kick that takes the air out of both of them.

“You know _DAMN WELL_ that’s what this is about. You tortured him. You _destroyed_ him.”  
“Oh,” arrogant, even when wheezing, gasping for air, “So I should have just killed him? I can fix that.”

At that, the real fight begins.

It’s all a blur for Technoblade, swing after swing, hit after hit on both sides, the pristine white carpet ruined with dripping bloodstains. He’s never going to get Dream’s relentless persistence or hysterical laughter out of his nightmares after this, but it’s well worth it for the cause. 

Through sheer force of will, and the fact that he has something to fight for, Techno manages a harsh final blow to the side of Dreams head, landing under the helmet and cutting into the bottom of his ear. Dream stumbles back in shock, one hand on the gushing wound, and Techno takes the opportunity to knock the sword out of his hand, leaving another bloody gash. The man lands backwards on the couch, clearly dizzy, holding a hand to his head and glaring up at his adversary. 

Techno, though bleeding and starting to feel the soreness, readies his killing shot, when-

“C’mon, we’re here, he’s inside!”  
“Look! The window’s broken-“

Shit. He knows he can’t afford to fight George and Sapnap right now. Not with this much blood loss and no more strength potions.

Techno points his weapon directly at Dream, hardly half an inch away from his forehead, and speaks lowly, 

“Never, _ever,_ touch my little brother again. Do you hear me? Don’t come anywhere NEAR him.”

Dream groans in pain. Techno pushes the axe forward, the sharp tip barely grazing the man’s head.

“Do you understand?”

“Yea, fine, I understand.”

With a sigh, Techno lowers his weapon, drinks his last invisibility potion, and pearls back out through the hole in the window just as he hears footsteps on the stairwell. 

If nothing else, the problem has been solved. Even though he didn’t get the full extent of his revenge, Techno can be content with that.

Technoblade drags himself through the door of his house, shutting it behind him and throwing his things on the floor before collapsing on the bed. He’s staining the sheets permanently with blood, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Techno?”

Ah, but for this, he can sit up.

“Hey, Tommy. How you feeling?”  
“Better, today. Where’ve you been?”  
“Oh, just... hunting.”  
“Did you see Dream?”  
Techno hesitates.  
“Yea, I did, actually.”  
“Oh. Can he come over? Can I see him?”  
“No, Tommy. I don’t think so.”  
“Oh.”  
...  
“Well, that’s alright.”  
Techno smiles, patting his brother on the shoulder.  
“Can you bring me a couple of the healing potions from over there?”  
“Oh sure- oh, yea you’re kind of bleeding.”  
“Yea.”  
“A lot, actually.”  
“Yea.”  
“What happened to you?”  
“Tommy- potions, please.”  
“Right! Right, sorry.”

He hates that his brother still flinches at the slightest of harsh tones. He hates that his own tone still gets harsh sometimes, even though he tries to control it.

“Thanks. You’re the best brother ever, Tommy.”  
“Oh... thank you!”

Laughing, Techno gently pulls his brother onto the bed next to him, probably getting blood all over the boy’s clothes. Whatever. Clothes can be washed or replaced. 

Techno doesn’t need to admit that he needs comfort right now. He can just have it.

At least he can take comfort in the fact that the boy is now safer- much, much safer- than he was before. 

“You look really bad.”  
“I’m mostly just tired.”  
“I’m calling Philza.”  
“Ugh, you don’t need to call Phil-“  
Techno looks into his brother’s frightened eyes,  
“Alright, sure, that’s fine. Call Philza.”

Tommy smiles and pulls up his phone as Techno, as much as he’d rather stay up a moment longer, drifts off into a much-needed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all enjoyed this! I (along with a couple of others c:) wanted to follow up with this story, so I did. I just love Technoblade, okay?!
> 
> I really am appreciating the recommendations, in all seriousness, as well as the crazy kind words which I didn’t expect at all (you guys are too nice), so keep it coming!


	14. Sap needs love too :(

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested by ThisKetchupToSpicy.
> 
> A hurt/comfort where Sapnap gets a bit neglected by Dream & George, and he’s real sad :( but it’s okay because they love him and they fix it. As the comment says, “no sad only happy :]”
> 
> Love this group. Seriously. I love these guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No triggers, just a good, wholesome, hurt/comfort

“C’mon, we’re speedrunning again!”

Sapnap happily follows Dream and George into the forest of the newly spawned seed, although he’s a little nervous, since he still has no idea what’s going on.

“Yea, but... what’s the twist?”

George and Dream giggle together. Sapnap frowns- clearly there’s something he hasn’t been let in on.

“Nothing, nothing, no twist- just come on.”  
“I 100% don’t believe you.”  
“Come on, Sapnap, let’s just go!”

Sapnap, more annoyed by the second, collects wood with the two giggly baby-men, keeping his eyes peeled for any irregularities.

“Hey Sap, go kill those pigs for us, would you? For food.”  
The two boys are _clearly_ still stifling giggles.  
“Why me? Why can’t you do it?”  
“Cause we’re busy!”  
“Just cause! C’mon, go do it~”

Warily, Sapnap approaches the pigs. He gets about two meters away from them when suddenly,

_BOOM_

They explode, and Sapnap is launched backwards, smacking his head full-force into a tree.

The boys ‘explode’ into laughter, Dream wheezing like a tea kettle and Gogy actually rolling around on the ground. Sapnap rubs the bump on the back of his head.

“Rude.”   
“Oh come ON, Sap! You have to admit that was funny!”  
“It really wasn’t.”  
“Awwww, poor wittle SapNaaaaap.”

Sapnap inwardly vows to never listen to anything those two tell him again.

The rest of the run proceeds pretty much the same way. It’s as normal as it can be, with every mob exploding if they dare to get near, but with some bows and arrows and some bread from a village, they do just fine. They always do. 

The whole day, George and Dream are giggling at eachother like schoolgirls, leaving Sapnap trailing behind or struggling to keep up. Sometimes they don’t even seem like they know that he’s there. 

Like when they make the nether portal,

“Okay, everybody ready?”  
Sapnap struggles to organize his things, still waiting for the last bits of food he just got to finish cooking, since George and Dream took all of the rest.  
“Wait, one second, I’m-“  
“Ready.”  
“Alright, let’s go!”  
“What- GUYS!” 

Or like when they get back to the overworld,

“Wait, where even are you guys?!”  
“Where are WE? Where are YOU, Sapnap!”  
“I’m leaving the fortress! Where-“  
“Oh my GOD Sap! We’re already out of the nether!”  
“wHAT-“  
“Yea, keep up, Sapnap!”  
The renewed giggling only serves to infuriate him more.

Or when they make it to the end,

“Guys, hold up, I’m low, I’m LOW-“  
And Sapnap gets killed trying to defend George from all the endermen he pissed off. It wasn’t even Sapnap’s problem, he just wanted to help out.  
“Bro, seriously?”  
Dream laughs at him. It’s meant to be teasing, but Sapnap is nauseated at the sound,  
“Come back and get your stuff.”

Luckily, he had put a bed outside the portal, and is able to jump straight back in.

Only to die again. Three times, actually, because he can’t seem to live long enough to collect his things.

“Dude, you’ve really got to pick it up.”  
“I’m TRYING.”  
And the giggling resumes. 

“Whatever, forget it, I’ve got this.”  
And the ender dragon is dead, and the speed run is over, and the three are loaded back to Dream’s house before Sapnap can get his bearings.

“Woohoo! That was a fun one, don’t you guys think?”  
Dream wanders into the kitchen as he cheers. George laughs, following him,  
“That was a cool idea! I knew it would be from the moment you told me-“

Sapnap zones out of the conversation, sinking into Dream’s plush couch. This isn’t fun anymore. 

Suddenly, the idea of being in this house for another second is nauseating. Sapnap grabs his phone- not like it would matter, who would want to talk to him anyways- and quietly makes his way out of the front door. Tears start to blur his vision. Where can he even go? 

One thing’s for sure, he’s got to get away from these two. They don’t seem to want to talk to him _at all_ in any way, shape, or form. At the moment, anywhere is better than where he is.

Dream and George don’t realize anything is wrong until they hear the front door close.

“What was that? Sapnap?”

No response.

Dream and George look at eachother, concerned, before making their way into the living room to find their friend gone. Gogy squints in confusion.

“Here, uh, I’ll text him.”  
Dream pulls out his phone and messages the other man.

_  
Hey, you left early._

_You okay?_

_Sap?_

_**Read at 5:45PM** _

__

“He’s not answering me.”  
“I’ll try calling.

George calls. After one ring, he’s sent to voicemail. He looks at Dream.

“Did he just deny my call?!”

In any other situation, that would be quite funny. As it is, it only makes them more concerned. George opens the front door to look around.

“I don’t see him anywhere.”  
“Well, clearly something’s wrong, George!”  
Dream shoves past him and shouts into the air,

“SAPNAP!”

Nothing but silence.

“What’s going on?”  
“...I think we might have pushed him a bit far, today.”  
The boys think back to the day’s adventures, recounting each individual event, and slowly begin to realize why their friend might possibly have reason to be upset.

Dream slams the door behind him.  
“Come on, we’ve gotta find him.”

Sapnap sits on a bench at a shabby, abandoned park. He isn’t quite sure how he got here, or how far away he is, since he kind of spaced out while he was walking. It’s even harder to know since he can’t exactly see through the tears flooding his eyes. 

He starts to sob. Loudly.

Each sob is more forceful, more desperate than the last, shaking his body violently.

He curls up into a ball, shoving his palms into his eyes. What happened today? 

Is he not good enough for them? Is he not funny enough, or not smart enough, not strong enough, not clever enough? 

Not enough, not enough, not enough-

“George, I found him! Over here!”

He curls up tighter. Oh great, he can’t even do this right either.

Dream sits next to him on the bench as George starts to make the jog over, and gently rubs circles into his back.

“Hey, buddy. I’m sorry we were so mean today. We didn’t really realize how much we were ignoring you, or how rough we were getting with the teasing. You okay?”

Sapnap peeks out at the man from under his hands. Dream is smiling, trying to portray as much affection as he can, overall looking terrible guilty. 

George makes it over and sits on the other side,

“Hey” he says through his panting, “sorry ‘bout today- you alright?”

Sapnap lifts his head up to look between the two men. Dream is still smiling nervously, and George’s face is flushed from the jog over. They both look positively _ashamed_ of themselves. 

Sapnap starts to cry harder, shoving his face back into his knees,  
“I’m sorry I’m such a bad friend.”

Dream and George give one another a panicked look- they’ve really messed up, here.

“No, no, you’re not the bad friend- we’re the bad friends-“  
“Oh my god Sapnap I’m so sorry-“  
“-we should have payed more attention to you-“  
“I swear to god we didn’t mean it we love you so much, you’re so amazing-“  
“-and we definitely should have noticed when we went to far, because we absolutely did- WAY too far-“  
“-you deserve so much better, Sapnap PLEASE don’t blame yourself for this-“  
“-we’re really really sorry, we’ll like buy you ice cream or something to make up for it-“  
“-it’s not your fault that we totally ignored you and your feelings all day-“  
“-not that ice cream will make up for it AT ALL but if it would make you feel better we would-“

Sapnap tilts his head up and sniffles. They both stop talking immediately. He turns to Dream, and very softly, nearly inaudible, asks,

“Ice cream?”

After a moment’s pause, Dream bursts out laughing through his own subtle tears. George joins in, starting to cry as well, even though he’s slightly confused.

“Yes, Sapnap. We’ll buy you all the ice cream you want.”

Sapnap laughs with the two boys. Now _this_ is how it’s supposed to be. He sniffles again, wiping his eyes with his already-damp sleeve,

“It’s okay, you guys. I forgive you. Just don’t ignore me like that, okay?”  
“Never again, Sapnap. Never ever.” Dream promises. George nods,  
“Yea, and if we ever do, seriously tell us and we’ll stop right away because that’s super mean.”

There’s a silence as they all revel in the renewed friendship, the small issue only making their bond that much stronger. It doesn’t feel awkward. It feels nice. 

George breaks it anyways,  
“Ah, you’re only forgiving us because Dream said he’s buying you ice cream.”  
“Hey- I said WE are buying him ice cream. You’re stuck in this too.”  
“He did say that, George- he’s right.”  
“WHAT! I didn’t sign up for this!”  
“You’re stuck with it now, pal.”

The friends laugh and walk through the sunset to go get ice cream together. All is well again, as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea I’m not always great at endings BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED! I hope this was what you were requesting, dude. :) Let me know if you guys want more of these characters as opposed to just my regular SBI routine (although nothing will stop the train of SBI)


	15. Tubbo’s Brotherly Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As recommended by FangedAxotol7887, special time between Tubbo and each of his three brothers.
> 
> This is a bit longer than most, but I accidentally kind of ran away with each of the little stories, putting enough deep emotion into each for its own short chapter. Left ‘em together anyways. If you’re gonna read one, you’ll read them all, so why not?
> 
> I’m planning a Phil chapter for this series next, where he finally cracks down on the whole taking-orders thing- it’s simply unacceptable, and it needs to be fixed NOW. This had to come first, though.
> 
> Took me longer to write than most... as in, most get written in a few straight hours one night, but this took the course of a couple days. I haven’t actually read through the whole thing. I might never. Who knows. Let me know if something’s wrong and I’ll just fix it. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings, I think, actually. This is just soft boys being soft.

_  
“Tubbo, come here!”  
Tubbo, still maintaining a head injury and general soreness from the rough beating the night before, falls out of bed and rushes into the hall. Hey, at least he isn’t wearing the collar anymore, right,_

_“Ah, there we are... good boy, Tubbo. Hey, let’s test you, yea? You’ve been without your collar a few days now, let’s see how well you’re handling it.”  
“Yes, mister Schlatt.”  
“Heh. Good.”_

_Schlatt, hands folded behind his back, starts to walk in slow, menacing circles around Tubbo. He reminds Tubbo of a vulture._

_“Now, let’s start off easy- who’s in charge, Tubbo? Who do you listen to?”  
“You, Schlatt.”  
“Good. That’s right. And what about you? What are you?”  
Tubbo hesitates. He receives a dirty look and continues hastily,  
“Nothing, Schlatt. I’m nothing.”  
“That’s right, Tubbo. Very good.”_

_Even though sick this whole thing makes him sick, Tubbo still almost shudders at how amazing the praise feels. Schlatt laughs at his obvious reaction._

_“My little buddy. My Tubbo. My pet.”  
Schlatt lays a firm hand on his cheek. Tubbo holds back a frightened whimper.  
“You’re so worthless. You know that? Nobody else would ever let you stay- and why should they?”  
He laughs,  
“But I do, Tubbo. I, through pure mercy, let you stay here with me. And for that, you do as I say. You understand?”  
He shoves Tubbo to the floor like a broken toy. And, like a broken toy, Tubbo stays there.  
“Yes, mister Schlatt.”  
_

It’s been two weeks since... 

Since they... since the...

Well, anyways.

Tubbo feels better every day, but he can’t help but wonder how long it will last before they realize how little he’s worth. He can’t help but fear the day they inevitably realize he’s a waste of their precious time, and throw him back. 

There’s a knock on his door.

“Come in!”

It peeks open just far enough to reveal Tommy’s head.

“Breakfast is ready! C’mon- we’ve got bacon and everything!”  
Tubbo grins at his brother’s enthusiasm.  
“I’ll be right there!”

The smile falls as soon as Tommy walks away. He hears him make his way down the hall, down the stairs, into the kitchen.

“He says he’s on his way!”  
“Awesome! I hope he’s feeling alright.”  
“He seemed to be, at least...”  
“He gets better every day, boys. We’re making progress, that’s all we can ask for.”

Tubbo’s heart is warmed. Little things like this remind him that it isn’t an act- they actually care about him. With a deep, steadying breath, Tubbo opens his door and makes his way down to meet them. 

“I thought it would be nice if you spent some one-on-one time with one of your brothers today. What do you think? You could do something fun together!”  
Phil smiles at the boy beside him, who appears more nervous by the second. Maybe they’re pushing too far too quickly. Maybe he should back off. Maybe-

“Sure, that sounds nice.”  
Phil chokes back his sigh of relief.

“Great. Do you want to pick one, or do you want us to pick?”  
“Oh, um...”  
He clearly has a preference,  
“Anything’s fine. I love them all, so...”

That’s not exactly a lie, Phil knows, but he can tell the boy would prefer one. Still, if he isn’t going to tell, Phil isn’t going to push him. He decides to go with the most stable of the group first,

“Alright, how about you and Techno go and do something?”  
“ **Heh?** ”  
“Sure, that sounds fun.”

Tubbo _does_ seem excited- he wasn’t lying, he’s genuinely looking forward to some quality time with the boys- but he seems like he was hoping for something else.

_It’s alright, Phil. This’ll do fine. Compromise, Philza, compromise._

“You’d be alright with that, right Techno?”  
“Of course, I’d love to. I just haven’t exactly come up with any activity ideas yet.”  
“Oh? I’ve got some ideas, if you need.”  
“Ominous. Terrifying.”  
Phil laughs at his son. Oh, he has some ideas, that’s for sure.

Sure enough, Phil’s terrifying ideas come to light, and somehow or another, Technoblade and Tubbo end up in the kitchen together that day in matching aprons with frozen sugar-cookie dough in front of them, along with various cutouts and icings and sprinkles.

“Alright, let’s... uh... well, what do the instructions say?”  
Tubbo giggles at his brother as he grabs the frozen package and holds it up an inch from his face, trying to read the tiny lettering.  
“I can’t even read this. This is ridiculous.”  
“Here, I’ll preheat the oven, I guess? Right?”  
“Yea, that’s probably smart.”

Through a massive struggle, the boys roll out the dough, reasonably evenly, and grab the bucket of cutout shapes to make their cookies.

“So, which one should I do?”  
Techno shrugs at the question.  
“Whichever one you want.”  
“Oh.”

Tubbo stares at the bucket with an unreadable expression, and suddenly, Techno realizes why their father had this idea in particular. He smiles and ruffles his brother’s hair.

“Here, maybe one of these.”

Techno pulls out two cookie cutters at random- a cat face and a pumpkin. Tubbo breathes a little easier, a little less tense at the simpler decision. 

“You pick the first one, and I’ll pick the next one. Deal?”  
“Alright, deal... here, I’ll just... pick...”

Tubbo’s brain is screaming at him to try to figure out which one is the right choice, even though he knows there isn’t one. He starts to shake. Decisions are hard. 

Techno puts his arm around the smaller boy and squeezes his shoulder, leaning down slightly to whisper in his ear.

“It doesn’t actually matter, Tubbo.”  
He backs up and speaks as casually as he can, trying not to make the boy nervous.  
“You don’t have to worry so much about it, okay? You can just pick whichever one you want. Heck, you can just close your eyes and grab one if you want. It’s alright.”

Tubbo nods and takes a deep breath- in, and out- and looks up at his brother.

“Can we do the cat?”  
Techno smiles proudly, knowing that the boy has had trouble with decision making.  
“Sure! Why not.”

Slowly, cookie by cookie, the boys fill two cookie sheets with adorable little cutouts- lots of little animals, trees, flowers, Christmas things, and a couple of attempts at custom shapes, none of which went very well, but all of which were fun to make.

They bake (and probably slightly burn) the cookies before getting to decorate, which is even more difficult for poor Tubbo. The decisions are wider and more complicated, the combinations seemingly endless.

“You can just pick randomly, Tubbo, and they’ll still love it. That’s how little it matters. Look-“  
Techno makes a big show of doing ‘Eenie-meenie-minie-moe’ with the colors and simply dipping his entire cookie into the one he lands on, which ends up being the ugly neon yellow. He closes his eyes and shoves his hand into the pile of sprinkles containers, grabbing whatever he touches first and dumping it on the poor cookie, which was originally a mitten but is now a demonstrative travesty. Techno drops it on the pan with the other finished cookies and licks his fingers clean. By this point, Tubbo is laughing so hard he’s supporting all of his weight on the counter behind him, giggling like an infant at the ridiculous display. It seems to work, as Tubbo is much more relaxed through the rest of the decorating. 

“I’m going to make the coolest cookie ever!” Tubbo eventually declares. Internally proud of the boy’s bravery, Techno laughs along with the idea, encouraging him as much as possible,  
“Oh yea? Let’s see it.”  
And after that point, they go wild.

By the end, the boys have gotten more icing on themselves (and in their mouths) than on the cookies, and the floor is littered with sprinkles, but they’re content with their cookie creations.

“Tubbo? We should do this more often.”  
“We really should. This was fun.”

Techno looks at his brother,  
“Not just this, but _this._ Spending time together. Seriously, I like hanging out with you.”  
Tubbo looks back at him with wide child-eyes.

“Really?”  
“Really.”

They hear the sounds of approaching footsteps.

“Have you two finished destroying my kitchen yet? Oh- oh my god”  
Phil laughs, a wild grin across his face,  
“Huge mess! Well, that doesn’t really matter. How are the cookies?”  
Techno smiles back proudly,  
“We were tasting as we went, and they’re pretty good.”  
Tubbo nods along timidly. 

Phil walks over to the two boys, looking over the chaotic mess of cookies,  
“Well, they look fantastic. Beautiful cookies, boys.”  
“Why thank you. We’re artists, aren’t we Tubbo.”  
Tubbo giggles,  
“Absolutely.”  
“Tastes good, too.”  
Phil tells them through a mouthful of cookie. Techno shoves almost an entire cookie in his mouth and hums in agreement. Tubbo follows suit, nibbling on a cookie of his own. 

Phil stands triumphantly next to his boys.  
Phase one- success.

~~

“Hey, Wilbur told me earlier to ask you if you wanted to go up and listen to some of his new music. You interested?”

Tubbo looks at Phil, who hasn’t even looked up from his book. He gulps, but doesn’t respond.

“Just, y’know, more quality time with your brothers, since you had so much fun with Techno.”

Finally, Phil looks up, trying to analyze Tubbo’s expression. The boy is clearly nervous. This is a bit more serious than messing around with sugar cookies.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. Just thought you might enjoy it- and I know he’d appreciate having a captive audience.”  
Tubbo attempts as much of a smile as he can.  
“Sure. Can’t hurt, right?”  
Phil offers a soft, knowing smile,  
“No, it really can’t, Tubbo. He loves you, and he’d just like to spend time with you. It also wouldn’t hurt if you weren’t interested, or if you were too tired today, or you wanted to do something else. It is _actually_ your choice.”

Tubbo takes a deep breath and nods resolutely,  
“I’ll go spend some time with him.”  
Phil nods approvingly.  
“Thank you, Tubbo. He’ll appreciate that. Go on, then- I think he’s in his room.”

Cautiously, Tubbo makes his way up to Wilbur’s room. He can hear occasional soft guitar strumming from the other side. He knocks.

“Yea?”

He creaks the door open and sticks his head in,

“Dad said you’d like to show me some of your music.”

Wilbur absolutely beams at the idea.

“Yes! Yes, come on in! Let me show you what I’ve been writing recently.”

Wilbur sits on the side of his bed and plays through a couple of songs while Tubbo sits quietly in the desk chair, enjoying the music and nodding along, telling him how amazing and talented he is at the end of each one.

“Well, that’s all I’ve written recently, but I’m still learning other songs too, for practice.”  
Tubbo, who has been genuinely enjoying hearing his brother’s playing, eagerly encourages more,  
“Oh, like what? Play something!”

Wilbur stutters for a minute before collecting himself and starting up.

_”White lips, pale face, breathing in snowflakes,”_

Tubbo’s always liked Ed Sheeran’s music. It’s calming.

_”Burnt lungs, sour taste.”_

He closes his eyes and practically melts into the music.

_“Light’s gone, days end, struggling to pay rent- long nights, strange men._

He opens his eyes and watches Wilbur’s smooth movements, passionate, as if the guitar were an extension of himself. It’s an amazing sight.

_”And they say, she’s in the class A team, stuck in her daydream,”_

Stuck. He feels stuck. And dazed. He’s not sure how much of what thinks that he sees is real these days.

_”been this way since 18, but lately,”_

Tubbo feels as though he’s always been this way. He hasn’t really, he knows, but that’s not what he feels.

_”Her face seems, slowly sinking- wasting, crumbling like pastries, and they scream,”_

A dried-on smile, cracked and splintered from wear and tear. 

_”The worst things in life come free to us.”_

Tubbo didn’t ask for this, dammit. He never wanted to be this way. He didn’t invite Schlatt into his life, it just happened. It wasn’t fair at all. His fists clench.

_”Cause we're just under the upper hand  
And go mad for a couple grams  
And she don't wanna go outside tonight  
And in a pipe she flies to the motherland  
Or sells love to another man  
It's too cold outside  
For angels to fly”_

Tubbo feels heavier than he should these days, but at the moment, he feels a portion of the weight lifted. A single tear falls, and he lets it.

_”For angels to fly~”_

He slows until he stops playing, just looking at Tubbo.

“What happened over there, Tubs?”

Tubbo, tears rolling down his cheeks, abandons the desk chair in favor of shuffling into his brother’s arms.

They sit in a long silence as Tubbo decides whether or not to talk about it, what precisely to talk about, and whether it would be okay to ask his brother to pet his hair like this more often.

“Too many things, Wilbur. Bad things. Not fair.”

The pause was long enough that it takes Wilbur a moment to figure out what question this was the answer to, but he hops on track as soon as he understands,  
“No, you’re right, Tubbo. Not fair at all.”

“Y’know why I rub my neck sometimes when I’m nervous? Like, when I’m panicky and having flashbacks and stuff?”  
“Hmm? Why?”  
“Cause for a long while at the beginning- with Schlatt, that is- there was a shock collar there, and I’d nervously fidget with that.” 

Wilbur freezes.

“A shock collar?”

Tubbo curls tighter into himself, but continues,

“For the training. You know. So I’d learn all my commands quicker- so I’d learn to do whatever he says without hesitation, cause if I hesitated, I got shocked.”

Tubbo chances a glance upward at his brother. His jaw is clenched and he’s staring into the distance slightly- at least, until he notices the movement and looks down. Tubbo immediately looks away again, failing to stifle a slight whimper. Wilbur instantly feels guilty.

“No, no- not mad at you, Tubbo. I promise I’m not. Never at you. I’m mad at Schlatt, you understand? For doing that to you. It’s inhumane. Tubbo, you can hear me, right- you’re still with me?”  
“Yea. Still here. Doin’ fine.” Tubbo answers a bit shakily. Wilbur hugs his little brother tighter. 

“It’s just like Dad said- sometimes we’re going to seem mad when you tell us things, but we’re not mad _at you._ We’re mad _for you,_ if that makes any sense.”  
“I think so.”

After another long moment,  
“Can... can you keep petting my hair, like you were earlier?”  
Wilbur smiles widely, trying to avoid laughing at the cute timidness of the question because Tubbo would take it wrong.  
“Course I can, Tubs. ‘Love to.”  
He slowly, gently, lovingly cards his hand through the boy’s hair again, whispering sweet, calming, loving words from behind. It’s enough for him to fall entirely asleep.

For the rest of his recovery, Wilbur’s always the person Tubbo can come to when he feels able to talk about what happened. Wilbur always holds him and pets his hair, just the way he likes, as he cries and works through the trauma.

~~~~~~

Near the end of breakfast the next day, Tommy looks between Tubbo and Phil and asks loudly, in typical Tommy-fashion,

“Hey, why haven’t I gotten my brotherly time with Tubbo yet?”

Phil stifles a laugh, hiding his grin behind his hand, and Tubbo has a whole wave of emotions- excited, anxious, nervous, guilty, terrified, amused- it’s simply too much for him, overall, and he decides to offer an amused smile and look questioningly at his father.

Well, Phil hadn’t exactly intended for Tubbo to know that he had discussed the one-on-one brother time idea with the boys beforehand, but Tommy is Tommy, and Tubbo doesn’t seem to mind, so he simply rolls with it,

“Well, Tubbo, what’d you say to spending some time with Tommy today?”

Oh, now the boy’s face lights up. _This_ is the brother he was waiting for, Phil realizes- but why? Sure, the two have always been close, but Phil had expected that the energetic Tommy would have been too much for this fragile version of Tubbo. Indeed, he may still prove to be, and Phil is definitely going to keep an extra eye on them.

“Sure, if that’s alright.”  
“Yay! Brother time with Tubbo!!”

Phil can’t help but giggle as Tommy shoots up from his chair, nearly knocking it over behind him, throwing his arms in the air and cheering. Physically, Tubbo curls in on himself, as if he were afraid- but his expression is soft, and he’s still smiling in the way that they’ve learned to recognize as genuine, so it’s difficult to tell what he’s really feeling. 

“So, what are you going to-“  
“Let’s go catch bees!”  
“Okay!!”

Before Phil can blink, Tommy’s off to get his butterfly net (which Phil almost regrets buying him for his birthday, but he’s so happy with it that Phil can’t seem to stay bothered) and Tubbo’s out of his seat before stopping to look back at Phil for permission. He nods, of course, and Tubbo grins a wild, enthusiastic grin that the others weren’t entirely sure they were ever going to see again at all, then he runs off after Tommy. Everyone still around the table is shocked.

“Did that just happen?”  
“I think so.”  
“I didn’t know he still had it in him!”  
“Should we be excited or afraid?”  
Phil stands from his seat at the table.  
“Both. I’m going to supervise this.”  
Techno laughs behind him,  
“Good luck!”  
Phil hears the front door open and rushes to follow after the boys.  
Wilbur looks at the remaining brother,  
“He’ll need it.”

“So how exactly do we do this?”  
“Oh, right! You’ve never done this before! Well, here-“  
Tommy hands his brother the net,  
“Now we just creep up on the little things and swing, fast as you can.”  
They’re in a flower field, so bees are plentiful. They slowly, exaggeratedly tip toe up to the nearest one- Tubbo swings, and misses.

“Aw.”  
“Well, that’s alright, Tubbo, because he’s still there. Here, let me show you.”  
Tommy takes the net back, swings, and with practiced ease, captures a bee.  
“See how I’ve angled it down so he couldn’t just fly out? Look, and now we can put him in the box.”

The ‘box’ is just a Tupperware with tiny holes in the lid, meant to keep bees alive. Tommy shuts the bee in the box before putting it back down and handing the net over to Tubbo again.

“There, now try again.”  
“Alright...”

Tubbo swings at the next bee.

“Oh! Aw, you almost got it!”  
“Here-“  
“No, go on- try again!”  
“If you say so.”

Tubbo swings- and succeeds! 

“Look! I’ve done it!”  
“Oh, you have! Look! Fantastic! I’ll get the box!”

The boys waste away the morning catching bees, accidentally releasing bees, catching one another’s heads, and rolling around in the flowers. Tubbo hasn’t felt this nice, this relaxed, since before Schlatt. It’s good to be able to forget about his troubles again.

At one point, the two boys end up simply laying in the grass together, totally relaxed, just talking about various unimportant things. Tommy laughs out of nowhere.

“Oh, Tubbo, I’m so glad you’re back. It just wasn’t the same without you.”

Tubbo turns and looks at his brother, sitting up slightly.

“Are you really? ‘Cause I keep feeling like I’m in the way.”

Tommy sits up to match Tubbo’s eyes.

“Really?”  
“Really! I just feel like such a burden, making you all take care of me, especially now that I’m so messed up. I know you love me and all, I just... I feel in the way.”

Tommy hums in acknowledgment and lays back down, looking up at the clouds again.

“Well, you’re not.”

The statement is very definitive, leaving no room for argument. It’s simply a fact. No explanation is needed. Tubbo lays back down with his brother to cloudgaze, grabbing his hand and holding tightly.

“Thank you.”  
“Hmm- yea, no problem- look, that one looks like a duck.”  
“Which one? Where?”  
“There!”  
“Oh, no way. That’s a deer.”  
“wHAT?”  
“Look, you can see the ears there, and the antlers there, and-“  
“That’s insane, Tubbo. Everyone, Tubbo’s insane!!!”  
“Oh, shut up! It’s more deer than duck, just look-“

Things have never been more normal, Phil decides, watching from his lawn chair in the distance. Finally, after all this time, they’re starting to get Tubbo back. Not just Tubbo, but the actual _Tubbo,_ and all the shouting and running and sweet puppy-eyed pleading that comes with him. 

Phil wipes a stray tear from his eye. This, right here, _this_ is what he was hoping for. 

His brothers’ love is going to put him back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, right? That was a lot. This story is starting to bring a tear to my eye.
> 
> Tubbo was hoping for time with Tommy because that’s always who he’s been the closest to and trusted the most, besides Phil. He knows Tommy won’t judge him, because Tommy’s absolutely nuts, and he knows Tommy will stand up for him. It’s precious.


	16. Tubbo’s Dadza Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y’know that one-on-one brother time chapter you just read? Here’s one for him and Phil. Except it’s more terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, this isn’t triggering either. Just dadza being crafty.

_  
“How about we play a little game?”_

_Tubbo doesn’t particularly want to play a game with Schlatt, but he supposes he has no choice._

_“Something simple, perhaps? Like... catch?”_

_Schlatt throws a bottle at his head. He barely even flinches, not bothering to dodge. It hits the wall next to his head, earning him glass in his hair._

_“No? Well, maybe hide and seek? Oh, except there’s nowhere for you to hide where I wouldn’t find you. Not anywhere.” He laughs sickeningly, “I’ll always find you, Tubbo.”_

_Tubbo gulps, but doesn’t move, still staring blankly at Schlatt. Broken._

_“Something else, then. Twenty questions? I’ll start- I’m thinking of something. Start asking questions and if you can’t guess what it is after twenty, then I get to beat the shit out of you. Sounds fun?”  
“Yes, mister Schlatt.”  
“Well, then let’s go.”  
_

Tubbo has been doing considerably better this week, Phil decides. Spending time with the brothers really did him some good. There’s still, however, one problem.

“G’morning, Tubbo.”  
“Good morning, sir- uh, Dad.”  
Tubbo winces at the mistake, keeping his head down and taking his place at the table. Phil tries not to sigh as he smiles encouragingly.

Tubbo still sees Phil as his new boss.

Tubbo’s still afraid of him.

Breakfast is fairly normal, with the normal amount of friendly chatting over blueberry muffins, normal tone, normal stupid jokes and loud laughter, normal occasional throwing of things, followed by a normal “You’re going to clean that up, you know” and “Yea, but it was worth it”

Normal glances from Tubbo up to Phil, as if asking permission to speak. Normal tiny portions of food on Tubbo’s plate. Normal having to encourage him to get more because Phil can tell he’s hungry by the way he’s staring at the platter full of muffins longingly. Normal flinches at loud sounds. Normal tiny whimpers that Tubbo thinks and hopes nobody hears but that Phil definitely does hear, every single time. Normal hunched, small movements, as if Tubbo wishes he were invisible. Normal asking specific, guided questions to Tubbo to make sure he’s able to participate in the conversation. Normal.

“Hey, how about you and I spend some time together today, Tubbo? Just the two of us.”

Everyone looks at Phil immediately, then quickly turns to Tubbo to see his reaction. He squirms at the idea. Still, he offers what he thinks is the correct answer.

“Sure. That sounds great.”  
“Splendid. I’ve got a great idea for an activity, and I’ll show you in a minute.”

Wilbur looks warily at Phil, as if asking,  
_’Are you sure you want to do this? That he’s ready?’_  
Phil smiles disarmingly back,  
_’Trust me, I’m sure. I’ll be careful.’_

Wilbur nods and takes his empty plate to the kitchen. Tommy follows, clearly about to go absolutely interrogate Wil on what he thinks their father is planning. Technoblade does the same, wordlessly grabbing Phil and Tubbo’s empty plates as well.

“Thank you, Techno.”

He doesn’t respond, only looking at him and nodding.

The boys have seen how nervous Tubbo is around their father, and are already concerned. They also trust him immensely. Phil could do anything and, if he confirmed he was absolutely sure, they’d all follow him unquestionably and unconditionally. It says a lot to that that they’re trusting Phil with their darling delicate brother’s happiness. This could very easily go terribly wrong, and Phil understands that, but he also knows that if he waits too long, Tubbo’s recovery could become so much harder. 

Honestly, he was hoping for something like this to happen naturally, but it’s becoming clear that he can’t wait that long. He will _not_ allow this boy, his son, to continue to be afraid of him.

“Well, they took care of that, I suppose. Come on, I’d like to try something with you, alright?”  
“...alright.”  
“Follow me.”

They sit down at their table outside. It’s a nice day out, with perfect temperatures and hardly any wind. There are two boxes sitting on the table. Tubbo realizes that Phil prepared for this more than he had let on.

“I’ve collected two puzzles, okay? And we’re going to do them at the same time, and whoever does it faster wins.”  
“Oh... okay?”

The two sit across from eachother on the table, the picture of the puzzle sitting in the middle. It’s a mountain range at sunset, with various animals around and white text across the bottom of the mountains reading ‘Natural Beauty’ in cursive. Tubbo opens his box curiously. It looks to be about 500 pieces. 

“You ready?”  
Tubbo looks up at Phil and nods, feeling quite small.  
“Then let’s start.”

Phil starts to sort through the pieces in his box, pulling out edges and making piles of certain colors, dumping everything else back in his box. Tubbo employs a similar method, categorizing each piece by color, trying to match by sections of the puzzle, and pulling out edges. Tubbo catches movement out of the corner of his eye and turns, only to see his brothers watching through the window. Seeing that they’ve been spotted, they quickly duck behind the curtains. Tubbo laughs nervously. This is going to be interesting.

After twenty minutes or so, they each have a solid foundation of some of the edge pieces and are still sorting when Tubbo decides to speak up,

“How long are we going to do this for?”  
“Until one of us has finished.”  
“Won’t that take all day?”  
“It might.”  
“Oh. Alright.”

Tubbo doesn’t particularly want to work on a dumb puzzle all day, but there isn’t much of an option here, and he decides that it’s not nearly bad enough to be worth complaining about. Especially not to Phil.

Another hour passes before Tubbo realizes something.  
“Hey, are those words from the picture actually supposed to be on the puzzle? I haven’t seen any yet.”  
“Oh, they’re on my puzzle, but they’re not on yours.”

Tubbo looks at the picture, disappointed. An entire third of his puzzle is going to be practically the same color and nearly impossible to put together. 

“Something wrong?”  
Tubbo looks up in a panic. He hadn’t meant to appear so disappointed, even if he was,  
“No, nothing. It’s fine.”  
“Don’t like the puzzle?”  
“No, I like it, it’s great! This is fun.”

Phil hopes desperately that he won’t be pushing his son too far with this. They keep working.

Another hour and a half passes and, as instructed earlier by a text from Phil, Wilbur and Tommy bring out lunch for the two so that they can keep working. Ham and cheese sandwiches, nothing too exciting. They don’t stick around for very long, since Phil is very obviously sending them away, but they curiously look over everything they can see, taking in all the information before proceeding back inside.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Tommy asks while nervously fidgeting.  
“I have no earthly idea.” Wilbur replies.  
“Are they just doing puzzles?” Techno, who didn’t get to see it, asks.  
“The same puzzle. Or, mostly the same puzzle. I don’t know.”  
“I’m really confused. Tubbo doesn’t seem to be enjoying himself.”  
“I sure hope Dad knows what he’s doing.”  
“He usually does.”  
“He wouldn’t mess around with something like this, right?”  
“Oh, poor Tubbo.”

Another half hour and they’re nearing the end. They’ve been making small conversation throughout, but not much more than that, focusing solely on the task before them. Tubbo is bored, anxious, and not having any fun at all. He doesn’t understand why Phil chose this as the activity, since they aren’t really bonding and he’s starting to become truly miserable.

Phil watches the boy from across the table. He’s tried his best so far not to pass him up too far on progress- truly, his own puzzle was much easier, especially considering the fact that he’d done it before, and he could have solved it by now. He wants it to be closer. He really, really hopes that this works.

Tubbo’s down to just the last third of his puzzle, which is all of the mountainy pieces. By the look of it, so is Phil- except Phil’s will be much easier. There’s no way Tubbo can win this, surely.

“Can I have the picture? I need to see something.”  
“No, I’m using it.”  
“Oh, okay.”  
This has happened several times throughout the day. It’s getting frustrating. How is Tubbo supposed to finish the puzzle if he can’t see where to put things? “Can I have it when you’re done?”  
“No.”  
“Oh.”

Another forty minutes or so pass, and Phil is truly impressed with how well Tubbo is proceeding on the puzzle, despite the seemingly impossible difficulty. 

Tubbo’s having decent success with his mountain, to the point where he thinks eventually he would finish it. He’s still missing a couple of other pieces, though. In fact... Tubbo rifles through his remaining pile of pieces. He lays them all out flat and stares at them. They’re all the same color. 

“Hey, I think I’m missing some pieces.”  
“Hmm?”  
“Yea, I still have the middle of my giraffe to finish, but none of these look anything like that.”  
“Oh. Well, maybe it will turn up. Keep working.”

They work for another ten minutes, Tubbo getting increasingly concerned about his missing pieces, of which he has now identified three. 

“I really am missing some pieces, Dad.”  
“Better find them, I guess.”

Phil’s puzzle starts to really look complete, with only a small pile of pieces left. Tubbo wants to cry at the sight. How is this a fair game at all? 

_  
“Twenty questions, Tubbo. Get going.”  
“Er, alright. Is it an animal?”  
“Hmmm... I don’t wanna tell you that. It’ll give it away.”  
“What? How am I-“  
“You’re not questioning me, right Tubbo?”  
“...no, mister Schlatt.”  
“Right. Nineteen questions left.”  
_

Tubbo starts searching for the pieces, resolute that he will eventually complete his puzzle. He looks in the box, in the grass- everywhere, really, but he can’t find them.

“D’you have any extra pieces, you think?”  
“No, all of mine are mine.”  
“Well then I’ve a faulty box.”  
“All of yours were in your box, Tubbo. I should know, I’ve done that puzzle before.”  
“You what?!”

Phil stops working and looks up, meeting the boy’s eyes.

“Yea. A friend of mine did it with me. He gave me both of these boxes, but we did that one together. All the pieces are there.”  
“Oh...”  
“Yea, me and him did that one and our two other friends did the one I’ve got- we raced. They won, of course, since they had the easier puzzle.”  
“...well, then- but- isn’t that-“  
“Is something the matter, Tubbo?”  
“...no.”

Tubbo grumpily attempts to finish the parts of his puzzle that he does have. After a few minutes, Phil exclaims,

“Look! I just counted, and I’ve only got ten pieces left!”  
“Oh. I have more than that, I think.”

Phil leans up and looks at Tubbo’s pile.

“Oh, yea for sure. And you still have your missing ones, as well.”  
“Surely those don’t count.”  
“Why not?”  
“Well, it might not be my fault they’re gone. I’ve looked for them and I can’t find them anywhere. I can never win now.”  
Phil shrugs,  
“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? I’ve practically won.”

Tubbo starts to cry.

“Is something wrong, Tubbo? It’s only a game, you know.”  
“I know, but...”

He doesn’t continue. Phil takes a deep breath in and pushes further,

“Are you just upset that you’ve lost because I’m better at puzzles?”

It works. Tubbo stands from his seat so quickly that it falls over behind him,

“But it’s not because you’re better at puzzles! It’s not fair! Look, you said it yourself, your puzzle is easier than mine! And my giraffe piece is missing, and you’ve been hogging the picture the whole time so I couldn’t even look at it, and I’m still not very far behind you! Look at this! I’m doing very well, clearly, and you’re not being fair, and it’s hot, and I’m miserable, and I’m tired, and I want to go inside, and I don’t want to do the puzzle anymore!”

Tubbo finishes with a shout and a sob, his hands coming up to cover his eyes. His whole body starts to shake.

This is stupid. What the hell does Phil think he’s doing? Is Tubbo just supposed to put up with this? That’s ridiculous.

Suddenly, arms wrap around him gently.

“There there, son. You did very well. You were perfect. We can stop now.”

Tubbo looks up at his father’s proud expression, very confused. 

“I don’t think I understand.”  
Phil runs a hand through his hair,

“You stood up to me.”

Oh. He did, didn’t he?

“Did you hear yourself? How forceful you were? That was fantastic, Tubbo!”  
“It was a ploy, wasn’t it? You upset me on purpose.” 

Tubbo falls backwards into his chair. Phil kneels in front of him, holding his hand gently.

“I had to, didn’t I? I couldn’t stand to see you so terribly afraid of me, Tubbo- it wasn’t your fault, of course, but it was hard for both of us. Now I bet I’m not so scary anymore, am I?”

Phil was right. After yelling at him like that, being justified, and not having anything bad happen, Tubbo couldn’t really be afraid of Phil anymore. He defied Phil, he didn’t do what he was told, and _he was right._

“You’re so smart, Dad.”  
Phil laughs,  
“I know. I’m a genius.”

They look back at the table.

“Yea, we don’t have to finish those if you don’t want.”  
“Actually, I kind of want to finish mine now. Would you help me?”  
“Sure! Also, um- here,” Phil reaches into his pocket and pulls out four puzzle pieces- one gray mountain piece, one giraffe piece, and two sky pieces, “you might need these.”

Tubbo laughs, nearly falling out of his chair,  
“Are you serious? You watched me crawl around for fifteen minutes looking for those, and they were in your pocket?!”  
“Yeaaa... well, now you can have them!”  
Phil drops the pieces onto Tubbo’s lap. Tubbo giggles. 

“I wonder if we can take the puzzle inside and make the boys help finish it.”  
Nothing makes Phil happier than watching Tubbo come up with and suggest original ideas,  
“I bet we can! I’ll grab the puzzle- good thing we made them on mats, hmm?- and you grab all the rest of the pieces. Sound good?”  
Tubbo nods, feeling shockingly content,  
“Sounds good.”

They transfer the puzzle inside to find the three brothers hanging out in the living room, apparently having watched them out the window the whole day.

“So, what happened?” Wilbur nervously asks as Phil walks in and places the nearly-finished puzzle down on the coffee table. Before Phil can open his mouth, Tubbo walks in behind him, face still slightly red from crying,

“Dad’s an evil genius, that’s what happened. Now who wants to help me finish this stupid puzzle?”

Shocked and confused, the boys all excitedly agree to contribute to the puzzle process. Tubbo spitefully puts in the three obviously missing pieces, and the boys get to work, making very quick progress on the puzzle since they’re all working together. 

After being told by Tubbo that it’s alright, Phil tells the boys exactly what they did for the past roughly five hours. They listen, shocked, occasionally yelling “WHAT” whenever Phil mentions a particularly annoying detail.

“Wait, so it was rigged the whole time?”  
“Yes, Tommy, it was horribly, horribly rigged.”  
Tommy makes an incredulous sound and flops backwards into the couch. Wilbur scoffs,  
“I would’ve smacked you the moment I realized yours was easier. Ridiculous.”  
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?!”

Within ten minutes, the stupid puzzle is done, and Tubbo can relax.

It feels good to not be afraid anymore. To know that the only person who can control Tubbo is Tubbo. He feels free, which he hadn’t realized before was even a feeling.

Tubbo curls up into his father’s side.

“I’m sleeping here now.”  
“Well- alright, I guess someone else is doing dinner. I’m a pillow now.”  
“Nose goes!” Tommy shouts. He and Wilbur, giggling, shove their hands into their faces. Technoblade sighs.  
“Oh, it’s up to me now, is it? As always, Technoblade has to save the day. Great.”

The joke doesn’t even make Tubbo feel guilty. It just makes him laugh.

“Well we’re having pizza, then.”  
“Oi! Get me pepperoni!”  
“I’m getting exclusively olive pizza.”  
“WHAT?!” Tommy’s face is the funniest thing anyone has ever seen.  
“Olive pizza.”  
“You are NOT getting ONLY OLIVE PIZZA!”  
“Olive pizza.”  
“TECHNOOOOO!!!”

Techno pulls out his phone, clicks something, raises it up to his ear,  
“I’ll have one olive pizza.”  
“Technoblade, get OVER HERE!”

Tommy chases Techno through the house while Wilbur sprawls out across the couch they used to occupy,  
“Ah, elbow room.”

And they’re happy. And normal. And Tubbo isn’t afraid to speak anymore. How crazy is that?

Phil runs a hand through the boy’s hair in his drowsy state.

Tubbo isn’t afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seemed super manipulative the whole time, but it worked, so SUCK IT. Phil was Absolutely Not going to allow his CHILD to continue to be afraid of him. No. Under no circumstances is that okay at all. So he fixed it :) all better


	17. Techno’s Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Hearts_MakeThe_Beat: Dream calls in the favor. It’s nothing like anyone was expecting. He asks that Techno be a guard for the prison. 
> 
> SORRY I HAVEN’T UPDATED IN A WHILE BY THE WAY. I got distracted and bored, lost interest- I’m gonna try to keep this going, though! My interests tend to come back pretty quickly, and I’m sure something new will happen on the smp soon, interesting enough to write about!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No TWs. Kind of weird, though, especially if you’re Tubbo-sympathetic, which we all are. Enjoy!

_Knock, knock, knock_

Technoblade climbs up from his basement curiously. He wasn’t expecting anyone today- or this _week,_ really- who the hell is at his door?

He whips the door open, passively ready to chew someone out for bothering him, and stops dead in his tracks.

Dream. Actual Dream. Dream himself is on Techno’s doorstep.

Oh, this can only be horribly bad. Techno’s far too excited.

“Oh, hey Dream. Wasn’t expecting you. Come on in.”   
“Thanks.”

Dream walks into the small room and sits on the bed, Techno leaning on the chests across from him.

“So... what are you doing here?”  
Dream snickers at the accusatory tone,  
“What, a guy can’t just visit his ally now and then?”  
Techno grins,  
“Sure, sure. Just stopping by.”  
“I was in the area.”  
“Yea, you were just wandering the frozen tundra an inconvenient distance away from literally anything else. Sounds normal.”  
“Of course.”

Ugh, Techno wishes he could banter with people like Dream more often. 

“I was actually coming on account of that favor you mentioned...”  
Techno looks up at him, suddenly much more serious, but keeping his expression the same.  
“Oh? Calling that in, are we now?”  
“Ha, yea, I think I will.”  
“Must be pretty important. So, what is it? Terrorism? I’m good at terrorism-“  
“Not exactly- hehe- you know what? Why don’t you just come with me.”

Confused, but ever intrigued, Techno shrugs and follows Dream out of his house. They walk in mostly silence, aside from some bland small talk and occasional delightful banter, all the way to the SMP area. They turn off the prime path near the badlands and approach a lake with a massive black building in it.

“You know what this is?”  
“I think so.”

Technoblade assumes this gigantic fortress is the mysterious prison. It’s the right area for it, it matches the descriptions, he just... hadn’t seen it before. It’s huge, looming over the surrounding area ominously, absolutely terrifying. The intimidating building sends a chill down even Techno’s spine. 

Everyone has been speculating as to who the prison would be for- quite a few had speculated Techno, (previously he had ignored this, but as he stands in front of the building, he can’t deny a bit of concern and apprehension. Imagine being locked in there!) or Phil, but Techno suspects otherwise. He and Phil are on good terms with Dream at the moment, and with how dangerous they are, the last thing Dream would want would be to aggravate them. Not to mention that if he imprisoned one, the other would surely break them out, and if he thinks he can imprison both, he’s even crazier than Techno suspected. No, those relationships are too fragile and too important to risk a big move like this. This building is for someone else. Still,

“You’re not gonna throw me in there, are you?” Techno jokes (mostly)  
Dream laughs and Techno laughs along with him, releasing tension he didn’t know he was holding,  
“No, no. Quite the opposite, actually...”  
“Heh?”  
Dream paces back and forth, as if explaining an evil plan,

“Sam helped me build the prison- did a fantastic job of it, too- but it’s a bit understaffed. You see, the individuals that are going in here-“  
Techno makes silent note of the plurality of the word _individuals,_  
“-will have constant supervision. At least, that’s the hope. For that, I’ll need more than two people- you understand where I’m going here?”  
“I think so, but finish anyways because it sounds wrong in my head.”  
“Ha! No, it’s right, I’m pretty sure.”

Dream stops and looks Techno dead in the eyes.

“I need you to be one of my prison guards, Technoblade.”

They stand there for a moment, staring at one another, unreadable. 

This wasn’t what Techno had expected from the favor. He had expected a joint raid, or some terrorism, or throwing Tommy to the wolves a bit, or... well, he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting. Not this. Still, he doesn’t exactly see a problem with it...

“Sure. Why not, I guess?”

Dream shows a visible physical relief that almost concerns Techno. Another tidbit to note for later.

“Fantastic.”  
“One thing, though.”  
“Hmm?”

Techno hesitates before continuing- he has to know! He has to be sure- there are certain conditions that would turn his ‘yes’ into a definitive ‘no.’

“Who’s going in here?”  
Dream laughs once,  
“Ah, right, that.”

He points across the path. Techno turns.

Tubbo and Quackity are walking along, chatting enthusiastically about something.

“Both of em? Just them?”  
“Yup. Have you heard of their hit list? Once they’re done with you, they’re on to me. I didn’t think they’d get past you, really, but they’re showing more potential than I expected. I’m not having that.”  
“I mean, there are more people involved in that-“  
“The fewer prisoners to deal with, the better. They’re the core of it. Besides, I can always just imprison more of them if they don’t correct certain behaviors, yea?”  
“Fair enough.”

Dream nudges him playfully. Cool. Techno didn’t know they were actually friends or whatever. He nudges back.

“I’m so glad we’re on the same page, Techno. Any other questions, then?”  
“Just one.”  
“Yea?”  
“...when do I start?”

~~~~~~~~

“Hey, ow! Stop it!”

When Dream arrives with his two prisoners in tow, the guards are lined up in the lobby: Sam and Technoblade, who have keycards and permissions for everything in the prison, as well as Eret and Skeppy, who don’t, but will be patrolling or monitoring the outside at random. Tubbo and Quackity, armor already off, things already handed over to Dream, look in awe at the line of well-geared individuals. Dream gave them all weapons and armor- well, except for Techno, whose armor was already plenty overpowered- to ensure that they were absurdly strong. 

Tubbo looks directly at Technoblade,

“Does Tommy know about this?”

Techno laughs,  
“What Tommy does or doesn’t know about my allegiance is my business, Tubbo, not yours. Actually, probably nothing outside of this building is your business anymore.”

He looks horrified. So does Quackity. Techno almost laughs- Dream doesn’t hold back, laughing darkly at the two boys’ expressions. 

“Come on, let me show you where I’m putting your stuff.”

Sam walks behind the three as Dream heads to the nearby locker to deposit all of their things. He nods at Skeppy and Eret as he passes, and they make their way outside, as instructed. They’re both on duty today to deal with the crowd that followed the two prisoners here, which Techno can actually hear screaming through the double-portal gate. Boy, good thing he isn’t a part of that, eh? 

Techno is here to man the entrance until the prisoners have been sealed into the vault, then he can go- he’s just an extra security measure today, making sure nobody gets past one of the other sets and comes in or out. He sits back in the main room and relaxes- what an interesting situation.

A few minutes pass before he hears footsteps returning in the hallway. Initially, he thinks that the group must be returning to proceed to the cell- but there’s only one set of footsteps, and it’s much too light and cautious to be Dream.

Sure enough, from around the corner, Tubbo’s head peeks out. Techno waves at him, staying relaxed, sword in hand. Tubbo walks nervously into the main room. Techno eyes him.

“Uh, does Dream know you’re here?”  
“Oh, well, I... hey, how does this door work?”  
Techno scoffs.

_This is the most pathetic escape attempt I’ve ever seen in my life._

“It’s a double gate. Someone has to be holding it open from the other side or you get trapped in the middle.”  
“Oh. Is it... open right now?”  
“No. It isn’t.”  
“Oh.”

Tubbo looks sheepishly at the door. There’s no escape from this prison without Dream’s consent. 

Tubbo turns to Techno and opens his mouth, presumably to start bargaining, when they hear heavier footfalls in the hallway.

“Oh Tubbo~ where’d you go?” Dream taunts. Technoblade snickers,  
“In here.”

Tubbo’s face falls. The remaining light in his eyes dies. Part of Techno feels guilty- until he remembers that Tubbo and co. not only declared him a criminal, but tried to kill him multiple times, including their attempt to execute him very recently. He smiles. Tubbo’s never leaving this place.

Dream appears from around the corner, fully armored, the sword in his hand shimmering threateningly in the dim light.

“Ah, there you are! Whatcha’ doin?”  
The question is directed to Tubbo, but Dream looks after to Techno for confirmation- _He hasn’t actually been able to do anything yet, right?_  
Techno provides a thumbs up, and Dream’s smirk widens with a response nod.

“Oh, just... I was looking around, and I um... got lost.”  
“Ah. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”  
“Heh... no, we wouldn’t!”  
“Well, I’ve found you now. Come on, back to the cell.”

Tubbo looks as though he might cry, but he solemnly nods and shuffles behind Dream back down the hallway. Techno relaxes back into the chair.

This won’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea, kind of sad. Also, if the ending is weird, it’s cause I wrote most of this and then took like a week’s break and then finished it without rereading.


	18. Ranboo, doing his best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ranboo has a bad memory.
> 
> (I would swear someone requested this, but I have no idea any more. You get a second shot at the same time because I had two that were almost finished that I forgot to follow up with)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too serious, just kinda funny Ranboo stuff.

“Right, so where did he say we were meeting?”  
“We... uh...”

Ranboo rifles through his bag for his journal- but he can’t find it. It’s nowhere to be seen.

“Ranbo, did you just come fetch me for a full-cabinet meeting with the president, then forget where said full-cabinet _important meeting with the president_ is? Really?”  
“Sorry! I wrote it down, I just- ugh!”

He must’ve dropped his journal somewhere.

This could only go very badly.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find it.”  
“Oh my god, Ranbo, seriously.”   
“Come on, it’s fine!”

See, Ranboo knows he has a terrible memory. He always has and he expects that he always will. That’s why he carries around a journal! He can write everything down, then he can just check for it later. Theoretically.

If he doesn’t forget the journal.

Oops.

Fundy and Ranboo walk around for nearly thirty minutes, becoming increasingly frustrated, before stumbling across the meeting.

“There you guys are!” Tubbo exclaims,  
“What the hell happened?”  
“We got lost,” Fundy explains, dropping his bag with a loud thud, “because SOMEBODY couldn’t remember where the meeting was.”  
“I’m SORRY, okay?!”  
“You actually forgot where the meeting was? Like, five minutes after leaving?!”  
“I wrote it down, but- hey, is my journal here? I can’t find it.”  
“What? I don’t think so?”  
“Whatever, that’s fine.”

“Let’s just continue the meeting, yea? Can someone catch Fundy and Ranboo up?”

While everyone else scatters at the end of the meeting, Ranboo groans and sinks back in his chair. He knows he’s not going to remember any of this later, and he wasn’t able to take any notes because he _doesn’t have his journal._ It’s infernally frustrating. 

“Hey, you okay?”

Tubbo approaches him after the meeting, noticing something off. It isn’t really hard to notice, since he’s sitting there with his face in his hands. He sighs.

“Yea, I’m fine. I’m just frustrated because I lost my journal, and I have a really bad memory.”  
“Surely it’s not that bad?”  
“You know how I’m a hybrid? I pretty much have the memory of an enderman.”  
Fundy, who was apparently standing behind Tubbo, releases a knowing hum. He’s understands having hybrid trouble. Everyone has seen Fundy stick random things in his mouth on occasion, or curl up on his side on someone else’s bed or carpet. 

“I hope you find it.”  
“Thanks.”  
“We’ll let you know if we see it, I guess.”

Suspecting they can do nothing more, the boys walk away, leaving Ranboo to his conundrum. After a few minutes, the hybrid boy resolutely decides to get up and search for his journal, since he isn’t likely to be productive without it. He looks for a few minutes before running into Connor.

“Whatcha doin?”  
Ranboo sighs, not particularly wanting to talk to ConnorEatsPants right now,  
“Looking for my journal. Lost it somewhere, and I can’t remember anything without it.”  
“Oh, that sucks. Have you tried retracing your steps?”

_Ranboo has no fucking clue where he was or when he lost the stupid journal._

Ranboo shoots a dirty look at Connor and there’s a moment of silence until eventually, awkwardly, the boy backs away and waves goodbye,

“Right. Bye. Hope you find it.”  
“Thanks.”

Ranboo searches everywhere. Unfortunately, he isn’t really looking up while he’s doing it, and somehow or another, he ends up in the forest. He didn’t even realize he was searching the forest, so he has no idea how long he’d travelled or what direction. As the sun goes down and the light fades, Ranboo is hopelessly lost in the forest. 

He sighs and sits down, leaning against a tree. How did he let this happen? He was supposed to be paying attention- but he forgot to remember to keep track of his journal to help with forgetting things! That’s a ridiculous sentence. Tears start to fall from Ranboo’s cheeks as he buries his face in his knees.

He has no idea how long he’s been sitting there, but it’s fully dark before he hears a voice, along with footsteps running towards him.

“Ranboo! Ranboo, where are you?”

Weakly, he replies to whoever it is,  
“Here!” as he raises a hand- though, in the dark, it isn’t very helpful.

From between the trees, Ghostbur runs up, out of breath.

“Everyone said you looked really upset, and Tubbo said it was because you were looking for a lost journal- and I get it because I have important journals and stuff, too, and I’d be very upset- wellx anyways, and I found this next to the river earlier. Is it yours?”

Ranboo sits up. Could it be-?

He cracks open the journal, too hard to see the cover in the dark, to the first page, and sure enough, he lands face to face with his color-coding guide and SMP map. It’s his journal!

He hops up from his sulking spot by the tree and gives Ghostbur a massive bear-hug. Being Ghostbur, he reciprocates warmly. 

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, _thank you!!!_ I was looking everywhere for this- freaked out- now I’m lost, and-“  
“Oh, I know where we are. I could take you back, if you’d like?”  
“YES PLEASE.”

So Ghostbur walks a crying Ranboo back to the city as he clutches his journal closely to his chest. A few lights are still on and Tubbo is waiting on the bridge, looking a bit nervous. He sees them and relaxes,

“There you are, Ranboo! We were starting to get worried about you. You really disappeared today- aw man, are you crying? You alright?”  
“Yea- ha- sorry about that. I got lost looking for my journal and kind of... crashed in the forest.”  
Tubbo puts a hand on his shoulder,  
“Ghostbur was right, though? He found your journal?”  
“Yup! This is it.”  
“Good. Now, uh- maybe you should go to bed, yea? Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.”

Ranboo laughs, somewhat bitterly and somewhat thankfully,  
“Maybe so. Thanks, guys. Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight, Ranboo!”  
“Night!!! Night, Ranboo!!! Goodnight!!!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta have a resolution of some sort, and I figured Ghostbur could save the day!! Yay!!!!!


	19. Tommy has ADHD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which... well, Tommy has ADHD. Set in the Techno Tommy Phil co-exile era. Techno gets frustrated with Tommy’s focus issues, not knowing he has ADHD, and yells a bit. 
> 
> Someone else requested a vent/projection fic (which I’m currently working on, but it’s a bit slower since I don’t relate to it so much) and inspired me to write a bunch, and this one just kind of... happened... in 45 minutes... straight... in the middle of the night... nobody asked for this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, sort of TW for ADHD stuff. It’s a hurt/comfort though, so it’s fine at the end.

“Tommy, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Oh, if Tommy had a gold nugget for every time he’d heard that sentence.

“Are you even paying attention?”

He’d have a full set of gold armor and tools by now. He really would.

_”TOMMY!”_

Flinching at the loud voice, Tommy finally zones back into his conversation with Technoblade, who sighs at him.

“You never pay attention, do you? This is important. Stop being distracted for just a moment and _listen_ for once.”  
“Sorry, Techno.”  
“You really aren’t. You’re not even trying.”

That. That one. He’s heard that so many times, that he ‘isn’t trying,’ and it still always hurts the most. 

He’s trying his very best, giving it all he’s got, and it results to so little that they genuinely don’t think he’s trying at all.

Tommy looks down at his hands,  
“‘m sorry, Techno. I really am trying.”  
“Well, try harder.”

Techno goes back to talking about the plan- sneak into L’manburg, feed the dogs, steal from... somebody- and Tommy really tries to listen, honestly he does, but he’s having an off day, and the fire is crackling and there are skeletons outside and crickets and other night sounds and the wind is coming in through an open window in the attic, causing a draft, moving around the doors and the bell and-

“Tommy! You’re not listening!”

He flinches again.

“Sorry, sorry. Where were you? Dogs, uh, stealing...”  
“You’ve missed an entire paragraph.”  
Techno glares down at him. He shrinks into his seat.  
“...sorry.”  
“If you were sorry, you’d start paying more attention.”

Tommy looks anywhere but forward. Techno sighs and stands up.

“Well, I’m not going to talk if you’re not going to bother listening.”  
“Wait, Techno-“  
“Don’t. I mean it. Don’t talk to me right now. I’m very angry.”  
“Oh.”  
...  
“I really was trying, it’s just loud, and-“  
“Yea, I don’t buy that excuse.”  
“Sorry. I’ll just...”

As quietly as possible, Tommy climbs back down the ladder to his room and shuffles into bed, trying his hardest not to cry. He fails at that too, sobbing as quietly as he can.

Techno brushes his hair out of his face. How is he supposed to deal with this boy? There’s nothing more frustrating than this. Of course, someone knocks softly on the door. Groaning exasperatedly and loudly, Techno yanks the door open, relaxing when he sees Phil.

“Hey. Uh... you okay?”  
“Come in.”

Phil follows the man in and sits next to him, a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“What has you so frustrated?”  
“Tommy. Tommy does, actually.”

Phil tilts his head in confusion as Techno stands up to pace the floor.

“He doesn’t pay attention! He can’t focus for more than a _second_ before deciding he’s bored and looking for something more fun. He’s a child.”  
“Well, he can’t exactly help it, Techno. In fact, he’s probably frustrated too-“  
“What does that mean?”

Phil looks Techno dead in the eyes,

“You don’t know?”  
“...no? Know what?”  
“He has ADHD.”

Technoblade’s expression suddenly changes. They’re silent for a moment.

“Pretty severe, too. He’s trying his best, it’s just harder for him, that’s all. Takes a lot of patience.”  
“No, I had no idea. Nobody told me this.”  
“Oh. Well, like I said, he’s probably just as frustrated as you are. You didn’t yell at him too bad, did you?”

Right on cue, a particularly loud and rattling choked sob makes its way up to them. Techno sheepishly rubs his neck.

“I might’ve been a little harsh.”  
“Probably set off that rejection sensitivity.”  
“I feel like shit.”  
“Don’t-“ Phil stands and places a hand on the large man’s arm, “You didn’t know, okay? It’s alright. I’ll go talk to him.”  
“Thanks, Phil.”

Phil climbs down the louder, the crying becoming louder the closer he gets to the source. His throat feels clogged. He knew Tommy was living here, he should have said something, it was his responsibility-

 _No time to think like that, Phil. You have a son to comfort._

“Hey, buddy.”

Tommy looks up as Phil moves to sit on the side of his bed. Immediately, he wipes his eyes and sits up, trying to compose himself,

“I wasn’t-“  
“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”

Tommy looks at him for a moment before breaking down again.

“He said I wasn’t trying. I promise I’m trying, I promise, really-“  
“I know. I know, it’s alright. You’re doing your best. That’s just fine.”  
“I wanted to focus, I couldn’t stop hearing everything else, I couldn’t-“  
“Relax, Tommy. It’s alright. You did fine.”

They stay like that for a while, Phil holding the boy in his arms through tears and choked explanations.

Eventually, a very guilty and small-looking Technoblade makes his way down the ladder. Tommy shrinks when he sees him, but Phil holds firm, beckoning him over to the bed. Techno stops right in front of Tommy. 

“Hey, um... I’m sorry for yelling at you, or getting frustrated with you or whatever. Uh. I know you were actually trying.”

The boys meet eyes. They both see the other’s guilt, their frustration, their tears. There’s simply nothing to be said.

Phil nods and Techno nods back, then sits down on Tommy’s other side. Tommy sniffles and speaks, taking a few tries to actually get words out,

“I’m sorry I’m frustrating. I hate me too.”  
“I don’t hate you, Toms.”  
“It’s alright, Tommy. You were doing your best.”  
Tommy gets a little louder,  
“I know, but my best isn’t good enough! That shouldn’t be _my best!_ There’s no excuse for that-“

Techno wraps an arm around him. Phil runs a calming hand through his hair. 

“Your best today might not be as good as your best yesterday or your best tomorrow. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s hard.”

Another sob escapes Tommy’s throat. Techno squeezes a bit tighter,

“I know it’s hard. You’re doing great, alright? You’re doing great. And guess what? You’re going to go to sleep tonight, then you’re going to wake up tomorrow and you can try again. And again. And again. And you can keep trying, because you’re determined, Tommy- because you’re brave and stubborn and amazing. You understand? You’re doing just fine.”

Eventually, Tommy falls asleep in the men’s arms. Techno tries to leave- only for Tommy to shift and nearly awaken, grabbing his cape and pulling him back with a sleep-whine. Phil chuckles.

“Guess we’re stuck here, ay?”  
“I guess.”

The two men shuffle backwards into the bed until they reach a position they can sleep in. They close their eyes for the night, arms protectively around the wonderful boy between them.

Neither of them complain about their sleeping arrangements that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I accidentally wrote an entire cute hurt/comfort vent fic at midnight! Whoops! Didn’t realize I was writing a whole shot until this was nearly finished! But it’s here now! Hope you wanted this! Lord, I’m erratic!


	20. Ghlatt & Techno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested this too. I don’t know who. I’ve forgotten. I’m sorry. I love you still.
> 
> Ghostly Schlatt is hanging around- except nobody can see him but Technoblade. Well, and Wilbur, since he’s a ghost, but he’s a little off-kilter anyways. As much as Techno expected to hate him, he doesn’t really. 
> 
> I think this one’s longer than my last few. I didn’t mean for that to happen. It just did. I like writing Schlatt as alcoholic and hard to befriend, but docile.(Almost as much as I like writing him as a sick, nauseating abuser! Wowie!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings I think, but someone gets punched square in the jaw, and Phil definitely thinks that our boy Techie is hallucinating. Also, Schlatt is kind of a casual alcoholic, but it’s fine.

Glatt & Techno

“What do you _mean_ there’s _nobody there?!?!_ I can see him!”  
“Techno, I don’t know what you’re on about, and I hope you’re okay, but seriously, you’re hallucinating. There isn’t anything where you’re pointing.”

Technoblade looks to his left at the very obvious Ghost-Schlatt, who merely shrugs. He looks back to the confused Ranboo.

“Right. Whatever. Go away.”  
“Are you sure you’re okay-“  
“Leave me alone before I actually stab you.”

Techno pulls out his sword and Ranboo wises up and leaves. He sighs and turns back to the ghost.

“How long have you been hanging around the smp? Since you died?”  
“Nah. I thought it was that, but I think some time passed between me dying and me waking up here like this. Y’know, since I woke up... yesterday.”  
“Okay, yea, that’s weird. And nobody else can see you?”  
“Either that or they’re all ignoring me, which is really mean.”  
“Even Ghostbur?”  
“Wait what? GHOSTbur? Wilbur died?!?!”  
“Oh, we have a lot to catch you up on. Come on.”

Techno decides the best way to get to the bottom of _whatever the hell is going on_ is to ask the ghost expert, which would be Ghostbur. Not that he’s an expert. He’s really kind of out of it. He just... well, he knows more about ghosts than Technoblade.

“So what happened to Wilbur?”  
“He blew up L’manburg and his dad stabbed him.”  
 _”HE WHAT?!”_   
“Yea. Old news. He doesn’t really remember it, so hush.”  
“What, nobody’s told him?”  
“He disappears whenever we try to talk about it. It’s annoying at first, but eh, ya get used to it.”

Luckily, nobody’s around to question why Technoblade, who’s been banned from L’manburg, is walking around in the sewers talking to himself. They arrive at Ghostbur’s house, and Techno knocks.

“Who’s there?”  
“Me.”  
“Me who~”  
“Me who will break down the door if you don’t open it.”

The door swings open to reveal a smiling Ghostbur.

“My my, we have little patience today, don’t we- oh my god who is that?”  
...  
Techno hadn’t considered that Ghostbur may not remember Schlatt at all.

“What? Wilbur it’s me, you idiot.”   
“Techno?! When did you find a ghost?! And whose ghost is it?!?!”  
“Uh- well, about that-“  
“It’s SCHLATT you idiot! I had a heart attack right in front of you not that long ago!!”  
Wilbur pauses, eyes narrowing at the new ghost,

“I... vaguely remember that. I remember the name Schlatt, as well, but... well, I don’t remember much after winning the election, but I know he was there.”  
“Winning the election? You LOST the election.”  
“I what?!”

Technoblade cringes at the conversation happening in front of him and tries to grab Schlatt to pull him aside- he isn’t even solid enough, and Techno’s hand goes straight through. The ghosts continue arguing until it turns into a shouting match.

What is happening today? He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t want the ghost of Schlatt to randomly show up on his doorstep, he didn’t want to inevitably start rumors in L’manburg that he’s a raving lunatic, and he certainly didn’t want to be a part of a ghost shouting match.

Finally running out of patience, Technoblade absolutely roars,

“Alright,” _that’s enough!_ ”

The two stop immediately and turn to him, angry but slightly frightened. Techno sighs at the simple fact that he can see through them both.

“Listen. Ghostbur, I love ya buddy, but I need answers. Nobody else can see this guy, and he died quite a while ago but only just woke up- what’s going on here?”  
“Oh. I have no idea.”  
“What? Absolutely nothing? No- oh he’s gone.”

Wilbur has totally disappeared. Apparently the conversation was getting to be too much for him, and he decided to leave.

“Well, what the fuck?!”  
“Shut up, Schlatt. That’s your fault.”  
“You can’t tell me what to do.”

Techno punches at the ghost. Somehow, this time, it makes contact, landing squarely on his jaw.

“I think I just did.”

Ghlatt- yea, at some point, Techno decided that that’s his name now- rubs the bruise on his face.

“Ow. Not nice.”  
“I’m not a nice person. Now come on, let’s get out of here before someone sees us- or, sees me, I guess.”

They walk through the sewers towards the borders, Ghlatt still rubbing the bruise forming on his jaw.

“How did you do that?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“How come only you, of all people, _you_ can see me?”  
“I. I don’t. Know.”  
“Why am I even here?”  
“Schlatt?”  
“ _What?_ ”  
“Shut up. Please.”

They make it back to Techno’s house, and Ghlatt continues asking questions, shifting to focus on what happened since his death.

“Hey, where’s Tommy? I didn’t see him in L’manburg.”  
“Exiled.”  
“What?! Why?!?!”  
“Dream said so and Tubbo’s a coward.”  
“Tubbo? What does Tubbo have to do with-“  
“Tubbo’s the President of L’manburg.”  
“WHAT?! Who made THAT decision.”  
“Wilbur. Right before he and I blew it all to hell.”  
“RIGHT BEFORE YOU WHAT?!?!?!?!”

Techno stops for a moment, clutching his head and gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep his patience. He leans against a tree. They’re almost home.

“Can. Can you. Stop being so loud. This is supposed to be. A secret base.”  
“Nobody else can hear me, Technoblade.”  
“Oh right. Well, you’re still giving me a headache.”  
“Yea? Fuck you and your headache.”  
“How’s your jaw feeling, Ghlatt?”  
...  
“That’s what I thought.”

Techno opens the door to his base and shoves Ghlatt in in front of him, slamming the door. They hear footsteps from upstairs as well as from downstairs.

“Techno? There you are! Where were you?”  
Phil descends the ladder into the main room,

“Phil, you gotta help me. PLEASE tell me you can see the thing next to me.”

Techno gestures animatedly at Ghlatt, who waves. Phil looks where Techno is pointing before looking back at him,

“What, the... couch? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“Oh boy.”

Ghlatt laughs in his ear tauntingly. Techno shoves him. At the odd movement, Phil squints,

“Is everything alright?”  
“I’m seeing the ghost of Schlatt. No, everything is not alright.”  
“Oh... riiiight... you’re sure that’s what you’re seeing?”

Techno looks at Ghlatt, who sticks a tongue out at him before walking over to the chests,

“Got any booze?”

His hand phases through and he curses. Techno sighs.

“Sure sounds like Schlatt. And looks like him. And is an asshole like him.”  
“Hey! Really, kicking a man when he’s down. Wow.”  
“Shut up, Schlatt.”

Phil walks up to him with concern, still looking around the room skeptically,

“So, is this like... the voices?”  
“No, it’s like Ghostbur, but it’s Schlatt, and only Ghostbur and I can see him.”

Phil is slightly relieved at this,

“Oh, Ghostbur can see him too. Did you bring him with you?”  
“He ran off.”  
“Why?”  
“Because Schlatt’s a terrible person to be around.”  
“Seriously! Rude!”

The skeptical look returns. Techno shrinks a bit,

“I’m not insane, Phil! I swear!”  
“He did just say he knows you hear voices, do you think he’s gonna-“  
“SHUT UP, GHLATT!”

Phil takes a wary step back when Techno yells. Noticing this, and becoming increasingly frustrated, Techno sits down on the couch with a groan.

“Please, if you don’t believe me, find Ghostbur. He doesn’t exactly know who Schlatt is, but he knows he saw me and a ghost today, and-“  
“What happened to your hand?”

Techno looks down at the bruised knuckles of the hand he punched Ghlatt with. A bitter laugh escapes before he can stop it.

“I punched Ghlatt.”  
“He’s a ghost, wouldn’t you just go right through-“  
“I don’t know how I did it. I just know I did it.”

Phil pauses for a moment. Techno knows him well enough to know what he’s thinking.

“You’re wondering who I ‘actually’ punched, aren’t you? You think I’m crazy-“  
“I... believe that you believe that you’re seeing Schlatt.” 

At this, Schlatt laughs across the room. He’s still trying to become solid enough to open a chest, and still failing. Techno sighs at the sight.

“I understand that I sound crazy, but Phil- you gotta trust me here. This is real. I really talked to Ghostbur, and I really punched the Ghlatt.”  
“Ghlatt?”  
“That’s what I’m calling him now. Ghost-Schlatt. Ghlatt. Like Ghost-Wilbur, but with-“  
“I get it.”  
“Cool.”

They stare at one another for a moment. It’s probably silent for Phil, but Techno’s ears are filled with the sound of Schlatt muttering and cursing at the chests. Carefully, after a moment, Phil speaks up.

“Techno, I believe you when you say you’re seeing Schlatt-“  
“-thank you-“  
“-I’m just still not sure I believe that he’s actually real. I’m worried about you.”  
“Less thank you.”  
“I’d like you to stay here for a bit, okay? I’m going to go find Wilbur and bring him back, that way if he actually can see Schlatt- or, Ghlatt- then I’ll know he’s real. Okay?”

Techno sighs. When Ghostbur intentionally disappears, it can take hours or even days to find him. He’s absolutely not going to sit here for that long.

“Okay.”  
“Great. Stay here, alright? Here- uh- _Hey, TOMMY!_ ”  
After a second and some clanging, they hear Tommy yell from downstairs,  
“WHAT?!”  
“CAN YOU COME UP HERE FOR A MINUTE?!”  
“OKAY, ONE SEC.”

Ghlatt giggles in the background. Techno gives him a dirty look, not missing Phil’s worried reaction.

“You’re getting a babysitter.”

Techno decides not to make himself look worse by talking to the ghost. This, however, only encourages his taunting.

“Phil’s assigning you a babysitter, and it’s TOMMY! Imagine. Oh, that’s great. Hey, I thought you said Tommy was exiled-“

While Phil’s back is turned talking to the approaching Tommy, Techno throws a pillow at Ghlatt. It goes through him. Techno has to grit his teeth to keep from growling.

“-so Tommy, I just need you to... watch him, I guess, and tell me if he leaves and where he’s going. Okay?”  
“So I need to babysit him?”  
“No- no no no, nothing like that-“  
Phil looks at Technoblade nervously. It’s exactly like that.  
“-I just want to make sure I know where he is, okay? Just to keep him and everyone else safe. So he should stay here, but if he leaves, message me. Alright?”   
“I don’t need a babysitter-“  
“Alright!”

Ghlatt is rolling around on the floor in laughter. Techno thinks he might stomp on the man. Tommy is trying to hide a smirk, while Phil is doing his best to hold everyone together in concern for their health.

“Alright. I’ll be back as soon as I find Ghostbur, alright? Everyone stay here.”

Techno knows he isn’t insane. So he isn’t staying here. 

“No problem, Philza.”   
“Yea, no problem, Phil-za.”  
“Shut up Tommy.”

“Careful, don’t talk to your babysitter like that, you might get grounded!”

Techno glares at Ghlatt again as Phil walks out the door, looking over his shoulder 40-odd times. Tech turns to Tommy.

“I don’t suppose you can see him?”

Tommy looks nervous.

“Er, no. Sorry.”  
“That’s fine.” 

He’ll give Phil enough time to get far away, so that he takes long enough to come back for Techno to make himself unfindable. 

“Well, you’re the babysitter, right? Get me something to drink.”  
“I’m a babysitter, not a butler.”  
“Wah, wah. I want a drink.”  
“Fine, whatever.”

Tommy returns shortly with a cup of cinnamon tea for Techno and a bottle of sprite for himself. 

“...you’re welcome.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Hey, don’t be so mean to him! It’s not his fault.”  
“You literally kicked him out of his own country, Schlatt, shut up.”

Tommy gulps.

“You really are seeing Schlatt, aren’t you?”  
“Yea. I really am. And he’s actually here.”

Schlatt thinks for a minute in the awkward silence, then looks like he has an idea,

“Hey, tell him I said that Tubbo told me about the pig incident.”  
“What? Why? What does that mean-“  
“Just say it.”

Techno sighs and looks at the ever-increasingly-concerned Tommy,

“Schlatt says to tell you that Tubbo told him about the sheep incident?”

Tommy’s face turns red. Techno squints.

“Tommy, what was the sheep incident?”

Tommy looks around the room,  
“Nothing. Nothing. I’m not telling you.”

Ghlatt starts laughing so hard he collapses against a chest. It makes a slight thud sound, which causes Tommy to jump. 

“Tell him- oh god- tell him I said it’s a little sad, but there’s nothing wrong with getting some affection from some farm animals, and-“  
“What?! I’m not telling him that- Tommy, what did you do to the sheep?!”

Tommy starts pacing the room,

“It wasn’t anything like that! I mean, it was just cold, and we were tired, and there were sheep, and we had to sleep, and we figured they’d be like wool blankets, and so we slept between the sheep, and I woke up a few hours later because I couldn’t breathe with a sheep sitting on my face, and-“  
Techno starts laughing just as hard as Ghlatt.

“It was a long time ago! Stop it!!! STOP!!!”  
“Tubbo said that he said, and I quote, ‘My tongue’s gone numb from the taste of sheep-fart.’”  
Techno falls over laughing again,  
“What?! WHAT DID HE SAY?!”  
“He said- hehe- sheep fart- taste- HA!”  
Tommy’s face is the color of a tomato as he huffs and turns away. Schlatt comes over to sit next to Techno.

“Sit with me, Techno.”  
“Ew, Ghlatt, get away from me-“  
“Cuddle me like a sheep.”  
“IM NOT GOING TO CUDDLE YOU LIKE A SHEEP.”

Tommy leaves the room with his sprite, yelling something along the lines of “Goodbye!” And “Not listening!”

“Oh, perfect. Thanks, Ghlatt.”  
“Now we can leave without babysitter Tom-Toms telling on you.”  
“Yea, suck it, Phil!” 

Techno grabs his tea and his cape and struts out the door, headed for the icy coast. He and Ghlatt stop on a short cliff overlooking the ocean and sit on a tipped over log in the snow- even if it takes Ghlatt a few tries not to phase through it.

“Ah, that was fun, Techno.”  
“You know what? It kind of was.”

The two chat for nearly an hour about various things. Techno explains a bit of what’s happened since Schlatt’s death, Schlatt tells bad jokes in his funny voice until Techno admits that they’re hilarious. Eventually, they hear thunder in the distance-

That’s not thunder, those are wingbeats. Oh boy.

Phil, carrying what appears to be a very confused and distraught Ghostbur, lands in the snow and storms over to Techno angrily.

“Oh, great, here comes the lecture-“ he tells Schlatt before the man makes it to them. Techno almost shrinks at Phil’s stern expression. 

“How. Dare. You.”  
Techno swallows and tries his hardest to maintain eye contact.   
“Did you even think? I told you to stay- how do you know for sure you’re not hallucinating? Hmm? Even if you’re not, even if Ghlatt is really here, which I honestly believe is a possibility- although I believed it more when I thought you were going to be reasonable and wait for me to come back- you wandered out on your own with an unstable ghost! You don’t know what he can do, _and he probably doesn’t either!_ I asked you something very simple- I asked you to stay in the house for a few hours. A few measly hours! And you couldn’t do that. I was worried, Techno! Tommy called me when he heard the door shut, but he had no idea where you went! I had to fly around searching for you, pick up Ghostbur on the way- I didn’t even have time to tell him what’s going on- and here you are, doing... what? Just stargazing? Why couldn’t you sit on the porch and do that? Ridiculous! I can’t even begin to-“

“Oh, why is he here? I don’t like him very much.”

Ghostbur, still confused but no longer face first in the snow, points at Ghlatt. Phil looks between Wil and the seemingly empty space that he’s pointing at. Ghlatt waves and gets up,

“Ayyy, Wilbur! Technoblade here has filled me in on your whole, don’t-like-talking-about-past-trauma thing. Uh, sorry about that, I guess, but look- you can touch things, right?”  
“Yea, sometimes. I’ve been practicing a lot! I really like to hug my friends, and also Friend, and-“  
Phil looks at Ghostbur very seriously, keeping his tone gentle so as not to scare the boy off again,  
Wil, you can see ghost Schlatt? He’s there?”  
“Do you know if we can still drink booze as ghosts?”  
“Oh, uh- oh, I’ve been asked multiple questions, now, and I don’t know who to answer.”

Techno glares at Phil a bit, who avoids his eyes, looking slightly guilty for not believing him about the ghost. 

“Booze, Wilbur. Yes or no.”  
“Er, I haven’t tried, but I can drink lemonade just fine, so probably!”  
“Hot _dog!_ Where can I find some booze?”

“I’m sorry, Techno-“  
“No, you know what? It’s ok. I get it. You were actually concerned about me.”  
“I really was. There wasn’t any way for me to know if you were seeing something real or if something was really wrong.”  
“It’s fine, Phil.”  
“Thanks for understanding.” 

“Ghlatt- that’s what Techno’s calling you, right? That’s your name?- I don’t have any alcohol-“  
“Eh, you’re boring, then. Help me search through Technoblade’s stuff. I can’t seem to touch anything.”  
“Isn’t that kind of a violation of his personal space, which is really rude?”  
“I don’t care. Come on.”  
“I’d rather not.”  
“Come on, Wil-“

Ghostbur, blushing an odd blue due to his lack of blood, disappears. Ghlatt sighs.

“He’s no fun.”

“You believe me now, though?”   
“Yup. I do.”

Ghlatt trips over the log and lands in the snow. Phil’s eyes widen. There’s a person-shaped dent in the snow, and he’s never going to get used to people around him being permanently invisible. Techno laughs.

“You’re an NERD, Schlatt.”  
“Shut up, Technoblade.”  
“That’s weird. This is weird. Is he talking to you?”  
“Yea.”  
“Oh boy. That’ll take some getting used to.”  
“You’re not wrong.”

Techno stands up,  
“Come on, Schlatt. I’ll see if I can find you some liquor in my house somewhere. It’ll be funny to watch you struggle to drink it, anyways.”  
“Why are you getting the ghost drunk-“  
“I’m asking for it.”  
“He’s asking for it.”  
“Alrighty then.”

They walk back to the house in the dark. Maybe eventually, Schlatt will fully form, and more people will be able to see him. 

For now, Techno decides, he’s perfectly fine having his new friend to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea. Not very strong fluff (possibly because I wrote too much Philza, whoops!) but a delightful story nonetheless. Let me know if you want more Ghlatt! I would probably make it so that he forms more fully and everyone can see him, then we can do Ghlatt with anybody and have it in the same universe, but idk, I don’t have any ideas really.


	21. Don’t Hurt Tommy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by aidenarmy- Wilbur is abusive, Tommy escapes, Schlatt saves him. Actually, I almost exactly used a line provided in the prompt.
> 
> Boy, we really love the abuse stories here, don’t we? Hurt/comfort, Tommy runs away, Schlatt finds him, feels bad, swoops him up and takes him to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for domestic abuse. Nothing terribly graphic or long.

_”Stupid, useless, annoying little boy.”_

_“Please don’t hit me again-“_

_Tommy takes a kick to the ribs and stumbles,_

_“Wilbur, PLEASE-“_

_The smacking sound is loud enough to be heard throughout the entire ravine of Pogtopia. People on the other side flinch, knowing what the sound means, but they simply continue working._

_Tommy falls backwards, clutching his cheek as if that will stop the pain, or as if that’s the only part that hurts. As if the pain didn’t go straight to his brain._

_“It’s your fault. You’re making me do this, Tommy.”_

_Tommy, with no energy left, can only whimper as Wilbur rolls up his sleeves and steps forward._

_This won’t be a good night._

Tommy pulls his eyes open, forcing the memory out of his head as he shoves the last of his important things in his backpack- some clothes, some food, a water bottle, one healing potion, a rubix cube, a couple of sentimental trinkets, and two pictures of him and Tubbo. He zips the backpack at the top, struggling with the old zipper, and slings it over his shoulder. Now for the hard part; he has to leave quietly enough that nobody wakes up. Surely nobody will notice he’s gone until the morning? He’ll have all the time he needs to get out and get somewhere safe... or, safer than this, at least.

_Deep breath in, and out._

Resolutely, Tommy opens the door to his room and steps out. He almost trips over a floorboard immediately.

_Careful, careful, careful!_

Slowly, as light on his feet as he can be, he climbs the stairs, opens the secret door to the outside, and steps out before releasing a breath.

_There, that wasn’t as hard as you’d thought, was it?_

“Hello? Is someone awake?” 

Tommy freezes, instinctively hunching over at Wilbur’s voice before shutting the door quickly and quietly. It’s running time. 

Schlatt is just having a delightful middle-of-the-night stroll when he hears footsteps in the forest. Curiously, he stops, steps behind a tree, and listens. The steps sound frantic, fast- someone is running- soon, he can hear the heavy breathing of someone who has clearly been running for a while. The steps become erratic for a moment before he hears the crinkling sound of someone falling into the leaves, accompanied by an ‘oof!’ 

He leans his head around the corner. It’s Tommy, looking rather distraught. Immediately, he hides again to consider his options.

Schlatt has always, instinctively, been forced to consider Tommy a threat. He’s been practically attached at the hip to Wilbur, who’s absolutely insane and has _tried to blow him up multiple times,_ giving Schlatt no way to know how stable Tommy is. He has to make the assumption that Tommy is as dangerous as Wilbur, simply for lack of other information!

Except... for Tubbo. Tubbo has always held the highest opinion of Tommy, singing his praises and lamenting how much he misses the boy, wishing they were together, wishing to see him again... and Schlatt trusts Tubbo. Sure, he’d had some initial issues with Tubbo possibly being a spy, but after open communication he had determined that it was only because he had his life threatened by Wilbur over it- he didn’t actually want to. It didn’t help that initially he was afraid of Schlatt, but that doesn’t matter anymore because he isn’t anymore, they’re friends, Schlatt has chilled, and now Tubbo’s best friend is sitting in front of him, obviously distressed. 

As he’s thinking, he moves to look at Tommy again, but hears a twig crunch beneath his feet. He freezes, still not sure what he’s planning to do. 

“Hello? Who’s there?” Tommy’s shaky voice rings throughout the forest. He’s trying to be loud and threatening, but it comes across as a plea. In a split second decision, Schlatt steps out.

“It’s me, Tommy.”  
Tommy stumbles back a bit when he sees Schlatt, but mostly holds his ground, keeping a stubborn, willful expression.

“What are you doing up so late, hmm? In the forest?”  
“None of your business.”

It’s then that Schlatt notices the backpack. It’s stuffed completely full. Tommy has a wild look in his eyes.

“Are you running away?”

Tommy’s face goes pink, visible even in the darkness.

Ah, caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“No. I’m exploring. You’re not welcome. Leave me alone.”  
“I can’t just do that. This is technically Manburg territory, Tommy. You can’t be here.”

Tommy takes an involuntary step back.

“Fine, which way do I go to get out? Leave me alone.”  
“That’s not how this works.”

The boy gulps. Schlatt holds firm, though feeling more pity by the second,

“Technically, by my own rules. I’m supposed to take you into custody.”  
“Well, don’t.”  
“I’d be a bad president if I just broke my own rules all the time...”

Tommy whimpers.

He... whimpers? What? Like a frightened puppy?

“Are you okay, Tommy? Something seems wrong.”  
“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

He makes to run away, but trips over a log immediately, his backpack falling awkwardly over his head.

Schlatt chuckles softly and moves to help the boy, but pauses when he gets close, as panicked, frightened eyes meet his own and Tommy starts crawling away.

“Come on, Tommy. It’s fine, I’m not gonna take you into custody, get up.”  
“No, no, I’m sorry.”

Schlatt hesitates. Something’s wrong. He reaches out to help the boy up, only to receive a harsh flinch. His eyes shut tightly and he curls up.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be good, Wilby, I promise, just please, please don’t hit me anymore-“

Schlatt freezes in his tracks, standing up straight. Wilbur is... abusing Tommy.

What the _fuck?!_

Immediately, Schlatt descends into protective mode, crouching down next to the boy and petting his hair gently, pulling the backpack off that was trapping him on the ground, speaking softly and gently,

“I’m not Wilbur, Toms, and I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s alright. Relax. Breathe, okay? In and out, slowly.”

Tommy, still weakly struggling but no longer conscious enough to make it off the ground even though nothing is holding him, whimpers again, opening his teary eyes to look at Schlatt and trying to crawl away, scraping his elbows across the rough ground. Schlatt holds him in place gently but firmly. 

“Tommy. Look at me.”

Frantic bright blue meets careful brown.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Do you understand?”

Tommy nods, relaxing slightly.

“Okay. I want you to breathe with me, can you do that? We’re going to breathe together. Now, in- hold it- out- that’s right- again-“

The two simply breathe in sync for a few minutes, waiting for Tommy to stop crying. Eventually, the boy looks up at Schlatt.

“Are you going to imprison me?”  
Schlatt sighs, knowing he’ll get in trouble for breaking his own rules once again,  
“No, Tommy. I’m not. I want to help you. You don’t deserve to be abused by anybody. You can come stay in Manburg with me, if you’d like to.”  
“Oh.”

They sit in silence for another minute. Schlatt gives the nervous, wary Tommy some time to consider the new option. Right when he seems like he’s going to try to crawl away again,

“Tubbo talks about you a lot. I think he’d really like to see you.”

Tommy does a double take, eyes wide with hope,

“Tubbo? I could see Tubbo?”  
“Yea, of course. You want to come with me?”

Tommy stays silent. Schlatt takes that as a resounding yes, and stands up, slinging the backpack over his own shoulder and reaching out a hand for the boy.

“Come on. It’s no problem. Poof- You’re a citizen again.”  
“You can just... do that?”  
“I don’t know, but I just did.”  
“Cool!”

Nervous, tired, desperate, hopeful, and still sort of crying, Tommy allows Schlatt to lead him by the hand back to Manburg. It’s the dead of night, so nobody is walking around. He makes his way to a room in the White House’s upstairs, which looks kind of like a hotel room hallway. Schlatt knocks twice.

“Who is it,” a familiar voice answers. Tommy perks up. He wasn’t lying- could it be?  
“Oh, just the president.”  
Someone giggles on the inside,  
“Coming, one sec.”

The door opens to reveal Tubbo, jaw dropping in shock as soon as he notices Tommy. 

“How- you- I don’t- is he-“ Tubbo looks between them, confused about the situation, unsure of how to ask his question. Eventually, he clears his throat and looks directly at Schlatt, eyes starting to water,

“Is he.. I mean... can we keep him?”

Schlatt laughs slightly,

“Yes, Tubbo. It’s alright. We’re keeping him.”

Tubbo grabs Tommy in a full-bodied embrace, both boys squeezing as tightly as they can, crying immediately into one another’s shoulders. They’ve missed eachother. So much. 

“Found him in the forest. I think he was running away, and I think Wilbur was... hurting him, but he hasn’t really told me.”

Tubbo pulls back slightly,

“Wilbur was hurting you?”  
Tommy nods.  
Tubbo nods back and pulls him back into the hug,  
“I’m not surprised. Wilbur’s messed up. It’s alright, though, you can stay with us now.”  
“I can? Really?”  
“Yea! Of course!”

They pull back again,

“I’m not... y’know, a war criminal?”  
Tubbo looks at Schlatt for confirmation, but doesn’t actually wait for confirmation before answering,  
“No, of course not! You’re my friend!”  
“Yea, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of the war crimes thing. You’re safe now- I promise.”  
Tommy starts sobbing again out of sheer relief. He hasn’t felt safe in so long, and a weight that he stopped noticing is suddenly lifted from his shoulders.  
“Thank you.”

Tubbo pulls Tommy into his room. Schlatt nods behind them and slowly closes the door.

“Remember, I’m right next door if you need me.” 

He isn’t going to let that child be hurt, not _ever_ again. Manburg is a sanctuary. He’ll make sure of it.

Tommy is safe here. 

_He will make sure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just not upload for a week and then upload five shots in two days? Yes, yes I did. Bad habits? Absolutely. Am I stopping? No. I might even do another tonight too. Who knows. I can’t be stopped. I’m crazy.


	22. Technoblade, depressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In short: Technoblade is sad :( but Phil says ‘no sad, be happy,’ so he’s happy :)
> 
> This one’s kind of long, btw. Hurt/comfort. Good stuff. I like it.
> 
> In most of my shots, you can read it as SBI family or SBI+Tubbo family or SBI-Technoblade family or not family at all, but this one is 100% SBI family. Like, Philza is referred to as dad. We get some sappy ‘I’ve failed my son’ moments. It’s family dynamics for sure. Set sometime someplace DSMP, but... calm, pre-exile, pre-ghostbur, pre-war, pre-horribleness kind of time. Wilbur is president of L’manburg, but he’s super relaxed about it. Dream is fine with it. It’s more of a city than a country. Whatever. It’s not even discussed very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING TRIGGER WARNING TRIGGER WARNING!!!! REAL DEPRESSION. SELF HARM. ACTUAL SELF HARM. HE’S GOT SELF HARM SCARS. HE’S ACTIVELY CONSIDERING SELF HARMING. THATS BLOOD. HE HEARS VOICES. HE. HEARS. VOICES. LOW SELF ESTEEM. WE GOT ISSUES HERE.
> 
> Seriously, though. Heavy depression warning. But it also comes with heavy comfort :)

_  
Come on, Techno._

_Just do it._

_Nobody will even care._

That’s not true, he knows. His family will care. They care about him.

_You’re in the way._

_In their way._

_You bother them._

_They’d be better off without you._

It doesn’t even hurt anymore. He feels the words pierce through him like arrows, but they go straight through and come out the other side. He can feel the energy bleeding out of him from the holes. It doesn’t hurt.

_Leave. Run. Go. Get out. They’re better off without you. Escape._

_That would hurt them- just pretend everything’s fine. Keep the mask up. You can just keep going. Maybe you can cut yourself again, that’ll help._

_Don’t bother with any of that, just kill yourself. Then it will all be over and you won’t have to deal with this anymore. Doesn’t that sound nice?_

Yes, it does. It does sound nice. 

No, wait, no- that’s bad. Don’t do that. Right?

Oh, Technoblade isn’t sure anymore. These voices are so confusing, and so, so tiring. He’s so tired. 

_Don’t you want to sleep?_

_I’m never going to let you sleep._

_You’ll have to take it by force._

_Take it- haha- get it? Like pills. Like the bottle of sleeping pills that don’t work in your drawer._

_I bet if you take enough of them, sleep will find you._

Techno doesn’t think he’s interested in that kind of sleep.

“Tech? You in there?”

Technoblade looks up- he completely missed the sound of Tommy knocking on his bedroom door, which is now open, with a bit of blonde peeking through.

“Over here.”  
“Oh, there you are. Lunch is ready.”  
“Thanks, I’ll... be right there.” 

The door shuts again and Techno’s head falls back into his hands. What is he supposed to do? He’s so tired. It hurts so badly that it doesn’t even hurt anymore, and he _knows_ that’s a bad sign. 

With a sigh, he summons his little remaining energy to stand up and make his way downstairs. 

They sit down. There’s chicken and melon on the table, cooked by their father. It looks delicious-

_Anything you take, they can’t have. You’d be taking food away from them._

Suddenly, Techno isn’t hungry anymore. 

“You alright, Tech?”  
After a few minutes of watching the boy pick at his food, Phil becomes concerned. Techno looks up, as if a deep thought process had been interrupted,  
“Oh, uh- yea, I’m fine.”  
“Just not hungry today?”  
“Yup.”

Phil can recognize a bad day on his sons’ faces from a mile away, and this was a bad _week_ for Technoblade. He was starting to worry about the boy’s health, but he hadn’t seemed to want to talk about it, so he opted to leave him alone. That might not be an option for much longer, he decides.

“Well, if you want something later, there’ll be leftovers.”

 _Yea, THEIR leftovers. Not yours. Those aren’t for you._

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.” 

For the rest of lunch, Wilbur babbles all about his cool opportunities as President, about how many papers and documents he’s written or helped to write, and how Dream is much nicer than he’d thought, or whatever. Techno tries to listen, but the voices in his head drown out any other words, and he just ends up dissociating numbly. 

“Tech? Buddy? You there?”

He blinks a few times. Apparently, he’s face to face with Phil’s hand. Shit. How long was he out? Tommy’s already left, everyone’s plates are gone except for his, and his father and brother both look concerned. 

_Oh, great. Now they have to worry about you. Fix it already, tell them you’re fine, get out of there!_

“Oh, yea. Sorry. Just... zoned out for a minute there.”  
“More than a minute. You sure you’re alright?”

_They have better things to do than listen to you whine about how tragic your life is._

“Yea. I’m sure.” Techno stands from his seat, “I’ll do the dishes.”

“Oh. Thank you, that’s very sweet.”   
“If you’re sure, Techie. Let us know, okay?”  
“Yea, yea- of course.”

As blankly as always, but this time on the inside too, he moves to clear the remaining dishes and takes them to the kitchen. He might as well contribute somehow if he’s wasting their food and their resources and their time and their air.

After a second, Phil pops in to join him.

_Oh good, now you’ve REALLY got him worried. You can’t even do nice things for them without messing it up._

“Hey, bud.”  
“...hey.”  
“Mind if I help you out?”  
“Sure, if you want.”

They get through the pile of dishes fairly quickly working together, but what concerns Phil is the silence. Sure, Technoblade isn’t known as the most talkative son, but one would expect him to have at least made a joke by now. Something. Anything.

“You’ve seemed a bit off lately, Techno.”  
 _Shit shit shit shit- play dumb_  
“Oh? How so?”  
“Just... less enthusiastic about things. You don’t seem like you’re having fun.”  
 _Act. Natural._  
“Well, dishwashing isn’t exactly the most common recreational activity-“  
“You know what I mean. Just, in general.”  
“Really, Dad, I’m f-“  
“I know you’ve insisted that you’re fine. I get that. But- well- listen-“

They stop for a moment and make eye contact. Techno can feel the concern resonating off of his father. Phil can see the slight panic in his son’s eyes- the panic of someone who’s been caught. He takes a deep breath, 

“If you ever need anything- I mean it, anything at all, even if it isn’t something I would understand or even if it seems bad or anything- I will help you. Do you understand? If you ask for my help, without hesitation, I will help you.”

 _He’s lying-_  
No, no he isn’t. He means it. Technoblade knows that. 

“Okay? You know that, right?”  
“Yea. I know. Thanks.”  
“I love you, son.”  
“Love ya too, Dadza.”

And now Techno is here, an hour or so later in his room alone, holding the razor blade that’s been sitting in his nightstand for roughly two weeks. It’s already stained with blood. 

He’s on the floor, leaning up against his bed, holding the blade threateningly up to his wrist and staring it at. He’s already got scars, even some fresh from just this morning. A couple more couldn’t hurt, right?

It could. It could hurt his dad.

It would hurt his dad to know that even after a conversation like that, he was still cutting himself.

His dad would blame himself, wouldn’t he?

Oh, he so would. He totally would. He’d take full responsibility, because his children are his everything, and when it comes down to it, he sees them as precious little angels who can do no wrong. 

Techno imagines his father finding out. Discovering that he’s been slicing his own arm open without telling anyone. Learning that his efforts to help, to reach out, weren’t enough. If he closes his eyes, Techno can see his wings drooping with his shoulders; he can see the tears forming in his eyes, falling down his cheeks, he can feel the guilt, the pity, thick in the air. He can see his brothers standing behind, concerned, kicking themselves for not noticing sooner. He sees it, hears it so vividly,

**“You were going to kill yourself?  
Why? Why wasn’t I better able to help you? Why didn’t I tell you that I love you more often? I failed my son. I’m a horrible father. I can’t even-”**

Techno can’t stand this. He yanks his eyes open, dispelling the vision, only to be faced with a razor blade pressed against his wrist, threatening to slice him open with one wrong- or right- twitch. 

_Do it do it do it do it do it DO IT_

Deep breaths, in and out.

He places the razor gently on his bedside table. 

_What are you doing? You know this is only going to hurt him. Don’t bother him with your stupid thoughts- cut them out again and move on. You don’t need sleep._

It’s time to tell Dad. 

After some slow, shuffled searching, he deduces that his dad is probably in his bedroom. Another deep breath. He knocks.

“Come in.”

Another deep breath.

He turns the handle and pushes gently, looking into the room. Phil is relaxing in bed, reading some kind of fairy tale book. 

“Oh, hey Techno. How can I help you?”

Somehow, Technoblade’s throat goes dry. He can’t seem to say anything.

“Tech?”

He shuffles into the room, closing the door behind him. The brothers don’t need to hear this. 

Deep breath, in and out.

“Hey, come here. What’s up?”

Without looking up, Techno makes his way to the side of the bed where his father is now sitting up. 

“What’s the matter? Are you-“ Phil stops abruptly.

Techno chances a glance upwards to see why he’s stopped. His dad is staring at his arm, sleeve still rolled up.

Oh. That.

“Yea, uh... that’s kind of... one of the problems.”  
“Okay. Yea. Alright. Um-“

Phil panics for a moment. He knew something was wrong, but he had no idea it was this bad. How does he help his son with this? What even happened?

“How long-“  
“Bout a week and a half.”

Phil’s mind enters analysis mode. A week and a half is a decent number- at least it isn’t months or years or something. This is recent. This can be stopped, the damage can be reversed. 

Techno takes Phil’s silence poorly, staring at the unreadable expression on his father’s face. After a long moment of silence, he recoils- this is bad, he needs to retreat,

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll just. Go. Or something. Sorry-“

He turns to leave, but Philza grabs him firmly by the shoulder. He swallows thickly. 

“No. No, thank you for telling me. Thank you. Do you hear me, Techno?”

Phil runs a hand along his son’s cheek, encouraging the much-needed eye contact. Techno needs to know just how serious he is.

“I’m so, so grateful that you came to me with this. You understand? Thank you for trusting me, thank you for asking for help. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said anything, and this... I’m more than glad to help you get through this. Alright? More than glad.”

They both start crying at the raw emotion poured into this sentiment, this explanation. Phil leaves no room for doubt or misinterpretation in his tone- he _means_ what he’s saying. 

“I love you so much- so much, son. My son. You’re going to be alright, okay? We’re going to get you through this. As a team. Together.”  
“I’m so tired.”  
Phil pauses at the voice of his typically bold and boisterous boy, now quiet and timid and unsure. 

“Have you been taking the sleeping pills-“  
“Don’t work. Tried them. Gave me nightmares. Still tired.”  
“Okay, I’ll ask the doctor about trying something else.”

Techno squeezes his eyes shut, as if pushing through something that’s preventing him from talking, forcing words out through hefty effort, clearly exhausted,

“Not just that kind of tired.”  
...  
“Okay. I think I understand. We’ll see what we can do about that, too.”  
“...thanks.” 

Trying not to cry simply at how small his son sounds right now, Phil climbs out of the bed.   
“Let’s head into the bathroom so I can make sure those aren’t going to get infected, hmm? Then we can sit here and relax together.”   
Techno hums and nods, letting his father lead him into the bathroom. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything else. 

Phil picks him up and places him. seated, on top of the counter, flipping the lights on. Techno squints at the brightness but says nothing. Phil grabs some sort of baby wipes or something- Techno can’t really see, his vision is kind of blurry right now, and he can’t bring himself to mind- and a bottle of Neosporin, based on its color, and pulls Techno’s arm up to take a closer look. Techno gathers up a bit more energy to try to be helpful,

“I did my research. Cleaned em properly every time, more or less, depending on how... conscious I was,”

He doesn’t miss the look from Phil,

“There’s, uh... some on the other arm too.”

Phil stops moving for a moment. More cuts. Twice as many. _More_ times that _his son harmed himself._ Within a moment, his expression softens again, and he looks up at Techno’s, softly ruffling his hair and smiling his classic warm smile,

“Well, thank you for telling me.”

Techno sort of expected to be yelled at for that. Actually, he’d expected much more rejection by now, and he hasn’t received any.

“Any others anywhere?” Phil asks as he rolls up his son’s other sleeve to reveal a nearly equal amount of scars on the other side.   
“No, just arms.”   
Phil stops and looks up and they make eye contact for a moment. Just when Techno thinks he’s going to be told to take his shirt off so his dad can check for more cuts,

“Alright. I trust you.”

What? He just proved himself untrustworthy; he lied about this, hiding it for a week and a half, and clearly he’s off-balance anyways since he’s been intentionally harming himself, so why would his father trust him now? 

“W...why?”  
“Why what?”  
“I’m not very trustworthy.”

Phil stops.

“Well, were you lying? You have other cuts?”  
“No, of course not, but-“  
“Alrighty then, that’s settled.”

Techno gives him a blank stare. Phil smiles compassionately.

“Why would you tell me about your self harm and then lie to conceal your self harm? That wouldn’t make any sense, Techno, and you’re a smart boy. ‘Of course not,’ you said- why would you consider yourself untrustworthy if you didn’t even consider lying to me? It’s alright- _I trust you,_ and I plan to continue to do so. Thank you for all of your honesty. I very much appreciate it.”

Techno feels more tears escape at that. He almost sobs. His father wipes a tear from his cheek and he leans into the warm affection. 

“Hey, Techno, I need you to look at me for a second.”

Techno does his best to make eye contact and hold it, wiping the blurriness out of his eyes and steadying. 

“I need you to promise me two things. Can you do that?”  
“I... depends.”  
“Fair enough. Firstly, I want you to promise that you’ll try your very hardest not to cut yourself anymore.”  
 _Why does he even care? It’s YOUR pain.  
You made him unhappy by doing it in the first place._  
“I’m not going to ask you to promise it will never happen, because I don’t really know how it works, and I don’t want you to feel worse if it ends up happening again and you can’t help it- but I’d really rather us stay away from that. So, I’d like you to promise that you’ll try with everything you’ve got not to intentionally harm yourself. Does that make sense?”

“Okay, I think so- and thanks for the distinction, cause you’re kinda right. What else?”

“I’d like you to promise that if this does happen again, alright, if you do,” he hesitates, “harm yourself again, that you’ll tell me. Okay? I need you to tell me so that I can help you. Or if you think you might do something like this, or you’re feeling really bad and you want my help, or if- god forbid- you’re considering actually... doing some _more permanent_ damage, you have to let me know. Can you do that?”

Techno considers the words for a minute- the fact that his dad wants to be bothered by this, _wants him to ask for help,_ makes him think his own judgement regarding this isn’t sound at all. It’s best to refer to Dad whenever possible. Promises like these may make it easier to hold himself accountable. 

“Yea. I promise.”  
“Can you say it for me, please? I’d like us to know for sure that we’re on the same page.”  
“I... promise that I’ll try not to self-harm, and I promise that I’ll tell you if I do, or if I think I might, or if I need your help.”  
“Perfect. Thank you, son, that’s perfect.”

Technoblade thinks he may never understand why his dad has been thanking him for telling him about his self-harm, asking him to tell him if he does it in the future, why his dad is _happy_ to learn about something that clearly only makes him _sadder._ But, Techno decides resolutely, if that’s something he wants to hear about, Techno will tell his father when or if it happens. 

_That’s an excuse. You just want someone to hug you and ruffle your hair and tell you it’s okay. Pathetic child._

It doesn’t matter why- if it’s what his dad wants, it’s what his dad is going to get. It’s simple logic- Dad would be more upset to learn about a cut accidentally than he would be if Techno told him, therefore, the new rule is to always tell Dad about cuts. Or, better yet, don’t cut at all. 

Yea, Sun Tzu would be proud. Ha. 

“Alright, I’d say these are pretty well handled. Hey, at least you were responsible about it, yea? Cleaned up and everything. The cream I just put on it should help with any soreness.”   
“Cool. Thanks.” 

Phil helps him off of the counter, turns off the light, and leads him to the large bed. It’s dim in the room, and the only light on is the bedside lamp- it’s perfect.

His father guides him onto the bed, lays him down, then asks something he hadn’t even thought about,

“Hey, one more thing, alright?”  
“Uh, sure, what is it?”  
“What did you use to cut yourself and where is it?”

Techno pauses. He wasn’t prepared for that. Logically, he knows there should be no problem with this- he just agreed to not cut anymore, so why keep the razor?

_But what if you need it? What if you deserve the pain and you need to cut? What will you do?_

Simple- tell dad. Right?

_But what if you reeeeeeally need it?_

Phil waits patiently for his son to respond. Finally, an answer comes, 

“A razor. I think it’s on my nightstand. Should be easy to find, since it’s kinda bloody.” 

Phil nods, keeping his compassionate smile and releasing a tense breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“Wait here for me, okay? I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get rid of it.”  
“Alright. Yea.”

Phil softly shuts his bedroom door behind him and heads for Technoblade’s room. He peeks his head in- and sees it immediately. 

Geez, Techno wasn’t kidding when he said bloody. This thing is a crime scene on its own.

Carefully, he grabs it, then considers, 

Dispose somewhere- not here- don’t want him to find it- no temptations- downstairs- he could see it- cover it?

He makes his way downstairs, trying to move quickly so as not to leave his vulnerable son alone. Kitchen- he grabs an empty grocery sack to wrap it in before throwing it away. He wraps aggressively.

“Dad? Uh... what’s that?”

Phil looks up. He hadn’t even noticed Wilbur at the kitchen table, snacking casually on some Oreos. He unfreezes and continues his work.

“Don’t worry about it.”  
“Why’s it covered in blood??”  
“I said, don’t w-“  
“You haven’t been cutting yourself, have you?”

He stops again to look at Wilbur, eyes glossy with concern, brow furrowed in confusion. Shit. 

“No, I haven’t.”  
Wilbur looks at him warily.  
“I promise, Wilbur. I’m fine. You want to check?”  
Wil calms down, releasing the tension in his shoulders and shaking his head.

“No, that’s alright, I believe you. That wouldn’t make any sense.”  
“How would you know what something like that looks like?”  
They look at eachother a moment more.  
“You haven’t-“  
“No. I know some people, though, at school.”

Wilbur’s eyes fill with a look of realization.

“I saw Techno go into your room earlier. Is he-“  
“Not my information to share, Wil.”  
Wilbur understands. He nods. 

“He’s alright. I’ve got him in my room now, and he’s just going to relax for a while. I’m going to call the doctor later about changing his sleeping pills for something that might work better.”  
“You promise he’s okay?”  
“I... promise he will be.”

Wilbur breaths shakily, but that’ll have to be good enough. Phil finishes wrapping the razor for safety and chucks it into the bin.

“I’ve got to get back up there. Would you mind ordering everyone some dinner?”  
“No problem! What should I get?”  
Phil starts thinking for a moment before shaking his head and laughing,  
“I don’t care. Something Techno likes, yea? Do what you will.”  
“Tommy and I will bring it up to you when it comes.”  
“Thank you. Now I’ve got to be going.”

Phil plants a tiny kiss on Wilbur’s head as he walks by. The boy hums in approval, pulling out his phone to check the delivery apps.

“Dad?”  
“Yea?”  
“If you think it’ll help, tell him I said I hope he feels better and I love him.”  
“Alright. Thank you.”

Techno’s sort of curled into a ball when Phil makes it back to the room, quietly opening and closing the door. He looks at his dad. The voices went a bit crazy while he was alone, but it wasn’t a very long time, so he’s sure he’s fine. Still,

“Hey, I know I already know the answer to this, but... I’m not a bother, am I?”  
Phil sits next to his son, tossing an arm around him and looking to him in concern,

“Of course not. Not at all! What do you mean?”  
“Like... you like having me around, right? You’d rather have me here than not have me here?”  
“Absolutely! I love you. Why? What’s that all about?”   
“I just...” Technoblade shrinks a bit, feeling as though even the question is bothersome, “the... voices, I guess- they tell me other things sometimes.” 

Phil wants to ask questions. He wants to know what in the hell the _voices_ are, what they’re telling him, have they always been there. He wants to take his son by the shoulders and shake him and shout at him not to listen to the voices because they don’t know what they’re talking about, because nobody in their right mind would ever doubt that _Philza loves his sons,_ more than anything else in the entire goddamned world-

He sets a wing protectively around the boy and smiles warmly, projecting as much compassion as he possibly can.

“The voices are wrong. I’m always happy to have you around, Techno. I love you very much.”  
“Thanks. I know, but... thanks. It’s nice to hear it sometimes.”

Philza resolves within himself to tell his children that he loves them far more often than he currently does. But that’s for later. This is for now. 

“Here, I’ve got this book-“  
He rifles through his nightstand drawer and pulls out one that Techno recognizes. It’s full of Greek mythology stories. His favorite.   
“Would you like me to read to you? And maybe that will help you fall asleep, or if nothing else, relax a bit?”   
“You don’t have to-“  
“That wasn’t the question, Techno.”

Techno sighs.

“Actually, yea, I’d love that. Thanks.”

~~~~Bonus~~~~

Wilbur and Tommy quietly enter their father’s bedroom to see a drowsy, but currently awake, Techno and Phil- about halfway through a very long book. They turn at the opening of the door and Phil waves, smiling. Wilbur holds up a mostly brown bag. Phil squints at it for a moment, then leans back, chucking. McDonalds. He should’ve known.

The boys approach with the McDonalds, climbing across the bed to hand it to them, Tommy explaining,

“We haven’t really sorted through it yet, so we don’t actually know what’s whose or where-“  
“You wanna stay?”  
Everyone stops for a moment and looks at Technoblade. They kind of didn’t expect him to talk. He looked mostly asleep. Far too vulnerable at the moment, he shrinks under their gazes.

“Sorry- stupid idea- you don’t have to-“  
“Woohoo! Eating in bed party!  
Tommy interrupts, taking the initiative by plopping down next to Technoblade and rifling through the bags, pulling out a box of nuggets and some little ketchup containers. Philza laughs. Wilbur grins widely, catching on and carrying his little brother’s energy,

“Fantastic idea, Tech! You’re the best- here, I think this is Dad’s-“  
“Now THIS is a family dinner!”  
Techno turns back, almost not expecting to have his father’s enthusiasm too. Phil, however, is absolutely giddy that Techno is feeling up to positive social interaction, and even possibly eating. He can change the sheets later. In his book, this is fantastic.

Tommy grabs the remote and switches on the TV, scrolling for about three seconds before settling on Spongebob.   
“Alright!! Best show ever!!!!”  
“Oh, I love this episode!”  
“I swear you two could quote every word from every episode of this show, we’ve seen it so many times.”

Surprised and impressed with himself for coming up with an idea that everyone seems happy with, Techno shoves his hand into various bags to find his food. Suddenly, his appetite is back, and it’s powerful. 

“Oh, is this the stupid one where they get lost delivering a pizza?”  
“Yup!”  
“Great. Fantastic. Where are my fries.”  
“Here-“ a bag is thrown in Techno’s direction, which he sort-of catches, and it’s full of loose fries, “those are yours now.”  
“Cool.”

And they’re happy. And for the first time in a while, he isn’t numb. He knows it won’t be easy, that it’s still going to hurt, but that doesn’t matter right now. He’s loved, and that makes everything else worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, that was long. That was very long. How long was that? Whatever.
> 
> I just kind of sat down for two hours and... wrote this. 
> 
> At some point, I’m gonna make a guide outlining all the different universes and label each shot with what specifically the universe is by a quick label. For now, this is fine the way it is.
> 
> I love all the support, by the way! Keep it rolling! Y’all are great!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bedrock Bros
> 
> (Requested by Mushroom_Soup, something about the two pieces of bedrock that people have.)  
> (I’ve set this in the SBI minus Techno family universe- Wilbur and Tommy are Phil’s sons, but Techno and Phil are just BFFs. I’m pretty sure that’s what the canon is, actually, other than the Tubbo-in-a-box thing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No TW. Just fluff. Two boys becoming besties.

“Well just what the heck am I supposed to bond with Tommy over?!”

Philza sighs at the man before him, throwing his arms up in a sort of do-I-have-to-do-everything-around-here exasperation,

“I don’t know, Techno, but you’ll have to find something. You’re the one who invited him to live in your house! You can’t kill him now!”  
“I think I’d really like to kill him.”

“No, Technoblade- I can’t believe I have to say this- _you’re not allowed to kill my child._ ”

Technoblade laughs slightly nervously as Phil sends him a threatening look, only half joking. Techno awkwardly rubs the back of his neck.

“Fine, sheesh, I was kidding-“  
“No you weren’t.”  
“-really I just wanna maim him a little-“  
“Hm, can’t do that either.”  
“-or, like, beat up him-“  
“Yea, that’s off limits too.”  
“-but clearly, you’re not going to let me have any fun at all.”  
“No. I’m not.”  
“Boring.”  
“Yup.”

Phil walks out the front door just in time to run into Tommy, walking in. 

“Hello Dadza.”  
“Hey, kiddo.”

Phil takes one last look back at Techno with an _I’m watching you_ gesture before Tommy shuts the door. 

“Honey, I’m home!”  
“Oh boy. I was beginning to hope- I mean worry that you’d gotten lost. Or killed. Or... anything that could get you out of my house.”

Tommy casually takes a big bite of a golden apple, like an asshole. Techno has to physically move his head and look somewhere else to keep from punching him. 

“Y’know,” he says, chewing through an open mouth, “you’re the one that invited me here. It’s your own fault, really.”

“Yea, I know.”

“You did this to yourself.”

“Yea, I know.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“Fuck off.”

“Fantastic.”

Tommy finishes the apple and chucks the core on the ground somewhere. Someday, Techno really is going to kill this kid- then Phil will actually turn on him, and he will most certainly die painfully for it, but it will be worth it. 

“Tell me things about you that aren’t annoying, Tommy.”  
“What?”  
“Phil told me I should bond with you.”  
“That’s stupid.”  
“Yea, but Phil’s kind of murdery when it comes to his children, so we’re doing it anyways. Talk.”

Tommy looks around for a moment, humming, trying to think of something. 

“I like cats. That’s fun.”  
“It’s not.”  
“Okay, well...”

Another moment passes before Tommy makes a noise of protest,

“Hey, why do I have to come up with something? You first!”  
“What am I supposed to say?”  
“I don’t know- here, uh, what’s important to you?”  
“What?”  
“What things are important to you? Like, what’s in your ender chest, I guess? You know I’ve got my discs, my Tubbo compass... what about you?”

Techno takes a minute to consider. That’s actually a good question. He opens his ender chest to take a look,

“Uh, I’ve got... my axe, but you know that, my rocket launcher, but I keep that on me... like three stacks of emeralds? I don’t know, let me see...”

He rifles around for a moment longer before coming up with another cool item,

“I’ve got this bedrock. One of two on the server- hey, don’t you have the other one?”

Tommy lights up like a kid- which he is, as Techno frequently reminds him- on Christmas.

“Yea! I do! Here, let me get it-“

Tommy reaches into the ender chest and pulls out his own bedrock. Techno laughs and they clink bedrocks like champagne glasses.

“Bedrock Bros!!!”  
“Sure, Tommy. Bedrock bros.”  
“The indestructible element! The only unattainable items on the server-“

“Well, actually, Punz has a shulker box.”

The two stop and look at eachother for a brief moment. Matching chaotic terrorism grins grow on their faces. Anyone in their right mind would fear the sight.

“Tommy.”  
“Yes, Tech-no-blade?”  
“I think it’s time for a little... bonding field trip.”  
“I think I agree.”

Punz never does understand what happened that day. Although, that might be partially the fault of the massive concussion. 

But hey, it worked- it may not have been the card-house-building or soda-mentos experience that Phil was expecting, but at least they aren’t trying to kill one another. Sometimes.

Close enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, I know, but I like this. Mister Mushroom_Soup had a point, nobody’s really written about the bedrock blocks thing yet, and it’s actually kinda perfect. Thought I’d just... throw the shulker box part in there too. Chaos boys are in the house.


	24. Our Crater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It may have been Tubbo’s country or Wilbur’s unfinished symphony, but the crater belongs to us all.
> 
> Everyone’s reaction to the recent destruction according to how their character acted.
> 
> Also, yes, I made up a building out of thin air for this. I wanted a place right by the crater where everyone could sit in the same room together. This meeting room does not actually exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this was written quickly (since the streams were... hours ago...) and I focused on the characters I saw more of, though I was flipping between streams. I think it’s good, though- I actually have several direct quotes in here.
> 
> But like, I don’t know what Captain Puffy did, I only saw Quackity when he happened to be with Tubbo at the time I flipped over, I’ve never payed attention to Jack Manifold before today, (though I might start to now) and frankly I didn’t even recognize a couple voices at certain times. I tried, though. Everyone is here-ish. My characters. Our characters. Our crater.

L’manburg is gone. 

Sure, it’s been gone before- between the Dream Team and Wilbur, L’manburg has had to endure quite a lot of TNT- but this time, there’s truly nothing left beyond the massive crater. 

There’s one remaining mostly-underground building, sort of at the entrance to the sewers, at the edge of the crater. It’s still intact, minus the door, which is now a large hole. It was originally a meeting room, elegantly lined with stone bricks and kept clean and tidy, but the table was removed at some point, so now it’s just a collection of mismatched chairs that have been strewn about by the explosion. The lantern in the middle is emitting just enough light to be seen from outside.

Tommy and Tubbo stumble across it as they’re walking. 

“Hey, wasn’t there a meeting room here?”  
“Oh you’re right! Look!”

Tommy falls into a chair. Tubbo plops down next to him, groaning in relief,

“Thank god. I’m so tired.”  
“That was...”  
“Crazy.”  
“Interesting.”

The boys laugh, finally relaxing a bit. 

“I can’t believe that that actually happened just now.”

Tommy looks at his friend, who’s speaking tiredly, eyes trained at the opposite wall. 

“Yea, neither can I.”  
“At least I’ve got you back with me.”  
“Yup! We’re the dynamic duo. And you know what else?”

Tubbo turns, and they make eye contact. Nothing has been said yet, but the topic is thick in the air. They both know what he’s about to talk about. It’s the same thing he always talks about.

“What?”  
“Now there’s nothing else between us and Dream and the discs.”  
Tubbo nods, keeping his face as blank as he can.  
“That’s it! It’s what it was all meant to come down to- you, me, and Dream.”

Tubbo just nods again, looking away from Tommy’s eyes. It’s always about the discs, isn’t it? Tubbo isn’t quite sure how important those discs ought to be. Why cause so much pain over a symbol of trust and friendship when you can just _have_ the trust and friendship? But it’s important to Tommy, so for now, he’ll let it be.

There’s no need to talk about the fact that Tubbo, just yesterday, _gave a disc to Dream._ Just handed it over like a little doormat. In fact, thinking of that incident...

“Hey, you didn’t actually blow up the community house, did you?”  
“No. I didn’t.”

“What about the community house?”

Ghostbur walks in, looking at the two boys with a hesitant smile on his face,

“And uh... what happened over there? Where even are we?”

“What, L’manburg?”

Ghostbur looks at Tubbo, frowning.

“That... that’s not L’manburg, is it?”

Dead silence is the response. 

Ghostbur’s mind fizzles and pops. No, he doesn’t want to think about this at all. This time, though, his mind can’t seem to go blank like it usually does. This time, he has to face it. 

“Well, we can rebuild it. It’s been like this before.”  
“Never like this.”  
“We can-“  
“Wilbur.”  
...  
“Who did this?”  
The two boys look at eachother in concern before Tubbo answers,  
“Er, Dream, and... Techno... and Phil.”  
“...Phil?”

Tommy’s not sure he can stand the look on Ghostbur’s face. He looks away, analyzing the burn and scratch marks on the walls. A sniffle comes from Wil’s direction. 

“Phil’s house is gone.”  
“Yup.”  
“That’s where Friend was.”  
...  
...  
“Guys?”  
“...yea, I don’t thinks there’s any chance Friend made it out of this one, buddy.”

A helpless whine escapes Ghostbur as he attempts to keep himself controlled, keep smiling.

“Well, like you were saying, at least the community house is still up!”  
Another wary look is exchanged between the boys. This time, nothing is said.  
“It’d be a real shame if the first building on the server was gone. That would really be a sign that things are going downhill, huh?”  
Tommy looks through him. Tubbo laughs bitterly,  
“You’re not wrong.”

Quackity, sighing, hunched over defeatedly, walks in and sits down. Over the next hour, as it becomes darker outside and the light from the lantern becomes the only visible marker, so do a few other people. Soon enough, nearly everyone is here, sitting in chairs or on the floor or standing in a corner.

“Good to see you’re alright, big Q.”  
“Thank you, Tubbo. The same to you.”

The words have no meaning. No energy. He’s just too tired. Sometimes, the fight is a bit too much, and he needs a minute.

“Hey, when did Ranboo get here?”

At Tommy’s question, the group looks around to see that Ranboo is, indeed, in the room. He’s sitting tensely in the corner, staring at them. Just... staring. As they look at him, he turns away, shifting to make himself smaller, like an animal being hunted. He doesn’t speak. The only sound in the bunker is the echoing of the quiet, whispered questions- ‘what’s going on’ or ‘is he okay’ or ‘where is’ some other person. Inside his head, however, it’s quite loud.

_  
Look at L’manburg. It’s completely gone._

_Was it because of me?_

_If I had taken the blame instead of putting it all on Tommy, they wouldn’t be fighting, he wouldn’t have been exiled- none of this would have happened?_

_Everything was fine before I showed up._

_Was it all my fault this entire time?_

_Was it me?_

_What else do I do?_

_What else can I do but watch? Like I always do. Watch everything unfold around me._

_It just doesn’t make any sense._

_I really don’t know._

_I don’t want to remember the people I hurt._

_IdidntdothisdididothisDreamsaidiblewuptnecommunityhousebutididntididntiwouldrememberbutididididididallofthisitwasmewhoismyfriendwhathaveidone_

_I just wish I could remember..._

_I don’t know what to do._

There’s a soft gurgling noise from the corner- like that of an enderman- but nobody seems to hear.

“Oh hey, here everybody is!”

In the doorway-hole, resting a hand on the top casually, is Philza Minecraft with a satisfied grin. Behind him, Techno walks up, humming in agreement. 

“Go away. Your aren’t welcome.” Somebody tells him, just loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to be identified. 

“Says who?” Techno laughs.

Jack Manifold crosses his arms resolutely, huffing at the intruder loudly.  
“You, Technoblade, have just made an enemy of Jack Manifold.”  
“Do you really wanna say that while your house is still mostly intact and I have a huge stack of TNT in my bag?”

Suddenly Jack’s confidence is gone. He slumps back down in his chair, and Technoblade simply nods. 

“Hey, Phil, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Ghostbur looks up at Phil the same way he always does. He looks and sounds like a child like this.

“Sure, what’s up?”

They make their way into a nearby covered area of the crater, wanting privacy despite the rain. 

Technoblade snorts.

“Really, Techno- what the fuck is wrong with you? How DARE you?”

Techno’s eyes and many others turn to Tommy, more confident than he should be while so undergeared and exhausted. Techno sighs at his once-ally.

“Like I’ve said before, I was completely transparent with you from the beginning. I don’t want government. It destroys people-“  
“I thought you were my friend!”

Now _that_ makes the man angry.

“YOUR friend? Like I betrayed YOU? Do you even remember yesterday? There were thirty-something people there. You were surrounded. You had nothing except for the _armor and weapons and resources that I gave you._ It was BAD. You were VERY OUTNUMBERED. And, like an idiot, WHAT DID I DO? Did I walk away? NO, Tommy, I STOOD UP FOR YOU. I PROTECTED you. _I STOOD UP FOR YOU EVEN THOUGH YOU WOULD NEVER STAND UP FOR ME._ I was ready, in an instant, to get you out of there. But no, Theseus had to be the hero. He had to side with the ‘good guys.’ I stood up for you and you betrayed me. But you’re right, really- _how dare I?_ ” 

Techno storms away, and quickly, Phil walks Ghostbur back to the meeting room, holding a jacket over his son’s head as an umbrella.  
“January 10th?” Wilbur looks at him hopefully. Like a child. Phil sighs,  
“January 10th. I still have to finish reading, though. Resurrection isn’t easy.”

With one more shoulder pat, Phil is off to check on Technoblade. 

A few more people walk in. Everyone goes back to their conversations.

“What do you think about the L’manburg thing?” Tommy asks Eret. He sighs,  
“I mean, this is Dream’s server. He can do what he wants, you know? You could build a thousand L’manburg’s and it wouldn’t make a difference.”  
“I guess that makes sense. Still-“  
“There really isn’t a ‘still’ for that, Tommy. That’s just kind of... how it is.”

“Hey, has anyone seen what happened to the L’mantree?” Someone pipes up.  
“I haven’t seen it.”  
“I don’t know, actually-“  
“I don’t remember where was-“  
_Tell them. Tell them it was you._  
“I burned it.”

The group quiets, and the remaining soft murmurs turn into shock and concern and anger as everyone turns to the speaker.

Nikki looks up, eyes trained forward, expression just a bit too blank,  
“I burned the tree.”

And nobody can think of anything to say. So the conversations slowly start up again. Mostly, it’s forgotten.  
_Like everything else I do or say._

A few minutes later, Fundy walks in, laughing. All eyes turn to him as he flips down into a seat, face red with lost air, keeling over with full-on hysterical laughter. The group watches him warily, almost too afraid to speak to him. After a moment, he makes direct eye contact with Ranboo,

“You were right.”  
...  
At the lack of response and silence that hadn’t been in the room yet the entire day, Fundy explains,

“I didn’t understand then, but I understand now. It’s not about sides. Sides hurt people. Honestly? This outcome? I couldn’t be happier-“  
Tommy screeches his protest in the background, but Fundy is unfazed,  
“L’manburg is gone. And you know what? That’s for the best. I’m glad Dream and Techno won. Now we can start over, and this time we can stop the destruction.”

Everyone just looks at him again. He just keeps staring at Ranboo, smiling, looking for confirmation- for a friend. He tries one more time,

“People shouldn’t pick sides. People should pick people.”

Ranboo looks warily at him, waiting for more. There’s nothing. Finally, in a whisper, Ranboo responds,

“You tried to create another side.”  
Fundy tilts his head and furrows his brow in confusion,  
“I tried to team up to stop sides from being created-“  
“Teams ARE sides.”

Faces turn to Ranboo. Nobody had heard him speak yet, and now he’s quite loud,

“That’s NOT what I said yesterday. You said you understood, but you don’t understand at all.”

Ranboo quiets as Fundy starts yelling, screaming about how a team isn’t a side, how he’s trying to prevent the destruction, how he’s only choosing people, not sides, he’s right, he’s sure of it now-

Nikki isn’t listening. 

She’s busy trying her hardest to breathe slowly.

“You know what’s the thing about these people? The difference between them and us?”  
“Yea- what?”  
“When we lose something? We grieve it. When other people lose something? They move on, they create something else. They only use things, they don’t care about it- We’re going to show them how to care about things.”

The two break out in laughter. Heads turn, and they quiet themselves to small giggles. It’s hard to hear them, since Fundy is still laughing so loudly in the background. Nikki’s wild, vacant eyes meet Jack’s desperate, lonely, hopeful ones. He exhales in a half-dead wheeze as Nikki speaks more through giggles,

“We can operate in broad daylight, and no one cares.”  
He nods, sucking in a deep breath before he’s able to reply,  
“No one will care until it’s too late.”  
“I think it’s our turn.”  
“I think so too. We’ve been overlooked for way too long.”

Nikki settles in her chair, facing forward, resuming her facade of listening to the group like a sheep, while Jack excuses himself to go resource hunting. 

Ranboo can’t breathe, suddenly. Too many people. Too many eyes on him. Gurgling some excuse, he rushes out of the room and onto the land around the crater. 

Quackity runs after him,  
“Hey, come here for a sec!”

Still breathing hard, but ever a giver, Ranboo turns around to hear out his friend. (his friend? Maybe? One of them? It isn’t particularly clear) 

“Look, if you need a place to stay... I can help you, okay? You work with us, we’ll still support you, after all this.”  
“Oh. Awesome.”

“Just let me know, alright? We’ve always been friends, right? I like you, and now I want to take out Techno even more, and I need help for that. I’m totally willing to forgive that you conspired with him some before or whatever. You’re going to do the right thing, I know it.”

Quackity leaves and Ranboo can finally breathe. Alone. It’s cold, and the snow burns his hands as he collapses onto the ground, but he can’t seem to hold himself up. Too many people. Too many eyes. He’s dizzy. He isn’t sure how much time passes- probably not much- but eventually he’s up, grabbing leads out of his pockets and leading his various cats into the panic room on the other side of the mountain. 

The wind soon becomes overwhelming. Having successfully saved his beloved pets, he tries to make his way back to L’manburg, remembers it’s a crater, and chooses to sit outside on the steps to the path. At least, he tries- instead he ends up stumbling forward into the snow outside. 

“Hey, you alright?”

Phil arrives suddenly from behind him and he flinches before he sees who it is.

“Oh, hey, Phil. Um. I think so.”

With effort and an extra hand from Philza, Ranboo stands up. They look at one another for a moment before Ranboo, already overwhelmed, has to look away. Phil hums in understanding and politely looks slightly off to the side. 

Phil is a friend. He’s pretty sure Phil is a friend. Phil just blew up L’manburg and has sort of teamed up with the most evil person on the server... but Phil is a friend, right? He can’t quite seem to remember. 

“How are you? You know, with the whole...”  
“Yea, uh- I’m pretty fine with it. L’manburg doesn’t really feel like a home anyways.”  
“Hm. Yea, I get that.”  
“Didn’t you live there too?”  
“I... had property there.” 

They sit in silence for a moment. Around all of those other people, he felt uncomfortable, but around Phil? For some reason, Ranboo has never felt safer. 

Phil looks down at the hybrid boy in front of him. He insists that he’s fine, but he’s shivering, clenching and unclenching his wet hands that probably hurt quite a lot, and while he usually can hold eye contact just as well as someone else, he’s currently staring at the snow as if it’s the glue holding him together, quietly burbling. 

“You need a place to stay?”

“...Yea, I think I do, actually.”

“Come on, you can stay with me and Tech.”  
“Really?”  
“Yea, no problem.”  
“...thanks.”

They start on the path to the nether portal, Phil guiding a slightly unstable Ranboo along.

“Follow- well, you know where you’re going, but follow me anyways.”

They walk, at first in silence, but soon in bustling conversations. They’re both so friendly, how could they stay quiet? The walk is far, but although their legs are tired, it isn’t unpleasant. 

They arrive. Despite the fact that most people have never even seen it, they’re both familiar with the house. In the past, they haven’t been allies, but they couldn’t help being friends. 

Ranboo sniffles, holding back tears.

Even though he has yet to live here, and even though he lived in L’manburg for most of his life on the server, he was never able to feel the sense of belonging in his country that he’s already starting to feel now, watching the sun rise over the gentle cabin. Maybe taking a side won’t be so bad, if this is what it’s like. Maybe staying with Phil will be nice. He subtly opens the currently-empty ‘Friends’ page in his new journal and scratches down the word _Phil_ at the top of the page. It can’t hurt to try, right? Just for a while, to relax.

Phil looks at the boy to his side, smile warm and eyes full of love. Even though he knows he can’t protect everyone, (he doesn’t particularly want to protect the government people anyways) he can’t help but want to take just one more person under his wing. Clearly, Ranboo shouldn’t be alone- his memory is so bad that he writes down his friends’ names in a book so as not to forget. Water’s just as bad for him as for Ghostbur, but Ranboo is probably more likely to be turned away at a stranger’s door in the rain.

No, it’s decided. This is a family now.

No matter what, everyone has to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas of a piece I could add to this or some way I could make a section better or you noticed something inaccurate- TELL ME. I will LITERALLY GO BACK and WATCH PARTS OF STREAMS if you tell me who and roughly when to watch. I’ll let you know in the next chapter whether I’ve edited this or not and how much/what I’ve added. 
> 
> Thanks guys! I really love the DSMP plot so much. These people deserve more credit as actors.


	25. Tubbo, before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo, before he was broken. Tubbo, before he was abused past the point of sanity. Tubbo, before Schlatt claimed his soul, his mind, his memories. Tubbo, before.
> 
> A fantastic idea from Sakisiil for a super angsty and sad pre-prequel of when Tubbo was first kidnapped, before he was broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... TW... kidnapping and domestic violence. Big yikes.

Tubbo lands harshly on the cold stone floor with an ‘oof,’ barely keeping his head from smacking against it and backing away as soon as he’s able, face stern against Schlatt’s everlasting smile. It makes Tubbo nauseous. 

“And this is where you’ll be staying!”

Schlatt speaks nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just thrown the boy at the floor roughly- as if he hadn’t practically kidnapped him, taken him against his will.

The room was tiny and octagonal with a fairly small window on one end. Tubbo didn’t know what the outside looked like, but it looked quite like a top-of-the-tower kind of room. He stumbled over to the window- he probably could fit- glass can be broken-

Fourth floor. Not even a bush to break his fall. That’s not an option.

Schlatt laughs from behind him. It’s a cold, empty sound, and Tubbo already hates it.

“You think I’d made it that easy? No, Tubbo, you’re staying here for a while.”

Tubbo whips around,  
“Why am I here? Why won’t you let me go?”  
“Oh, Tubbo...”

Schlatt starts walking forward. Tubbo can’t even back anywhere, already up against the windowsill. Tubbo gulps.

“You wanna know why you’re here? Mercy. That’s why.”  
Any response Tubbo might’ve had is caught in his throat. He can hardly breathe, much less talk.  
“You’re here because I need help, and you were lucky enough for me to stumble across you. You understand that? You’re here purely because I want you to be, and you’re going to stay here for that exact reason, and you should be _grateful._ You should be glad that I chose to take you in and take care of you instead of crushing you like the bug that you are. You should be begging me for forgiveness for ever giving me an ounce of attitude, and you should watch your goddamn tongue if you want to keep it attached to you.”

Tubbo gulps again,   
“I’m not afraid of death,” he manages breathily. 

Schlatt laughs again. Louder. Tubbo genuinely thinks he might throw up if he doesn’t stop hearing that laugh soon. It’s horrifying.

“Oh, Tubbo! You’re not going to die. I won’t let you! You know why?”

Schlatt finally closes in on him, backing him fully against the wall, noses almost touching, eyes inches away, boring directly into one another’s skulls,

“You don’t deserve that mercy.”

Before he can fully process the statement, Tubbo’s hair is forcefully grabbed and he’s thrown into the bed frame- he’ll certainly have bruises later- as Schlatt laughs and makes his way to the door. Schlatt turns around one last time to look at Tubbo,

“See you tomorrow~”

The door slams and locks. Tubbo sinks down on the floor next to the bed, sobbing. He’s in pain, he’s alone, and he has no way out, and this isn’t fair at all. What did he do to deserve this? Legs hopelessly sore, Tubbo stands and stumbles over to the door, banging on it and kicking it and screaming as loudly as he possibly can for someone, anyone to come and help him, come and save him, get him out of here. The door, however, is unforgiving. He kicks and hits and screams until his hand is bleeding and he can’t feel his legs and his throat is raw and scratchy, and there a genuine puddle of tears at his feet. With nothing left to do, Tubbo sinks to the floor. 

Sleep doesn’t take him. Apparently, he doesn’t deserve that mercy either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won’t dedicate any more actual chapters to the earlier times like this, since this is so short and depressing (although I do quite love this chapter) but I do plan on doing some of the flashbacks as the earlier days now.


End file.
